


Bound

by MiaCooper



Series: Service [2]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Accidental Plot, Anal Sex, Consensual Kink, Corset Fetish, Corsetry, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Holodeck Sex, Holodecks/Holosuites, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Love Confessions, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Multiple Penetration, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Phone Sex, Power Play, Secret Relationship, Sex Toys, Sexual Experimentation, Shameless Smut, Slash, Spanking, alpha chakotay, erotic asphyxiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 22:35:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 31,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9569738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiaCooper/pseuds/MiaCooper
Summary: Captains have needs, just like everybody else. Even Vulcans agree. And this captain is lucky enough to have a very attentive, very capable first officer.





	1. Exposure

**Author's Note:**

> Set late in Season 3. Sequel to [Laced](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7878856), which you could read first, or not, as you choose. This story is about sex. Lots and lots of sex. Some of the sex may not be your cup of tea, so please heed the warnings/tags.
> 
> I'll be posting this as a WIP and will adjust the tags as I go (who wants to give away the plot, even if it is the flimsiest excuse for one?)
> 
>  **Thanks**  
>  To LittleObsessions for her usual stellar beta services. Seriously, I was almost too embarrassed to ask.
> 
>  **Disclaimer**  
>  Paramount/CBS own the Star Trek franchise, but what the characters do in the privacy of their own quarters, ready rooms or holodecks is their own business.
> 
>  **Warning**  
>  Kinky stuff within. If you don’t like reading about consenting adults getting up to no good, you should probably read something else.

_Day 1, 1845 hours, Holodeck One_

  
The table is set, the candles lit. She dithers over the soundtrack; it doesn’t fit the era of this holodeck program, but she settles eventually on an old jazz selection she sometimes plays in the bathtub. It’s sensual without being overt, and she hopes it will offset the sheer blatancy of what she, and he, know she’s here to do.  
  
The drawing-room is opulent – hand-painted wallpaper, heavy velvet drapes, a soft, thick rug laid in front of the fire crackling in the hearth. There’s a plush, gilded chaise she’s selected from the holodeck files for its high back; she’ll need something to grip, to balance herself while he pulls the corset tight.  
  
She thinks about that and has to close her eyes for a moment, tamping down the excitement rising in her blood.  
  
The computer informs her that someone is requesting entry, and she opens her eyes.  
  
It’s 1900 hours. He’s right on time.  
  
=/\=  
  
Chakotay has taken Kathryn at her word and outfitted himself to suit her holoprogram: tight cream-coloured breeches, black leather boots, a brocade waistcoat over a linen shirt. He carries a bottle of wine – real, not replicated. He sees her standing by the table, and his steps come to a halt.  
  
“You don’t appear to be dressed for the occasion.”  
  
Kathryn hears the hesitancy in his voice, and realises that by showing up in the loose pants and tank top she threw on after her shower she’s given him the wrong impression. He thinks she’s having second thoughts.  
  
She’s had them – second, third, fourth – but whenever she thinks about returning to the way she was before Latavan, lonely and frustrated, her resolve strengthens. So she sets him straight.  
  
“I told you I’ll need your help to dress,” she says, not bothering to hide the undercurrent in her voice. “And I thought we should eat first –”  
  
“- in case we get too distracted,” he finishes, and his slow, curling smile turns her insides to liquid.  
  
If he keeps looking at her like that, they’ll never make it to dinner. Kathryn swallows hard and moves toward the table, sinking into the chair Chakotay holds out for her. A holo-serving maid enters the room as he takes his seat opposite her, silently pouring wine for them. Chakotay waits until the maid leaves before he speaks again.  
  
“What are we doing here, Kathryn?”  
  
She sips her wine to compose herself. “I thought it was obvious.”  
  
“Oh, it’s obvious,” he lets his gaze travel over her face and downward to where her nipples, hardened with anticipation, are pushing against her thin cotton tank. “But I know how you feel about rules and parameters, so maybe you should lay them out for me before this goes any further.”  
  
Kathryn puts down her wine, her eyes lowered.  
  
“Do you want to know what Tuvok said to me?” she asks, after a moment. “He told me that humans require intimate companionship to function at peak efficiency. He implied that my decision not to pursue sexual satisfaction while on _Voyager_ may be hindering my ability to command. And he suggested, quite strongly, that I should pursue it with you.”  
  
She glances up at him and is surprised to find him grinning, dimples deep. “Are you telling me I have Tuvok to thank for this? The bastion of Starfleet protocol himself?”  
  
“Oh, I think you can take some of the credit yourself, Commander.” She lets her fingers play along the stem of her wineglass, giving him a half-smile. “If I’m to judge by your performance last night, this is one protocol I’m not going to regret breaking.”  
  
Chakotay picks up her free hand, stroking a thumb lightly over the inside of her wrist. His voice is husky with promise. “Then I’d better warn you, Kathryn, that last night was only a taste of what I plan to do to you. I’m just getting started.”  
  
Her pulse jumps and a sharp throb of lust arrows its way directly to her clitoris, making her suck in a breath.  
  
“I can hardly wait,” she murmurs.  
  
He brings her wrist up to his lips, sucking gently at her pulse point, and Kathryn’s lips part on a sigh. She starts to rise from her chair, but he holds up a hand to stop her. “You should eat first,” he says, dimples showing. “You’re going to need your strength.”  
  
The holomaid re-enters on cue, placing two steaming dishes in front of them and retreating with a curtsey. Chakotay spears a piece of replicated okra on a fork and holds it out for Kathryn. Her lips close around it, butter dripping onto her chin as she swallows. He collects the errant drips on a fingertip and she catches his finger between her teeth, curling her tongue around his finger to watch his eyes darken.  
  
Reluctantly he draws back, settling into his chair. “Keep that up and we’ll never make it through dinner.”  
  
Kathryn allows herself a small smirk at the roughened tone in his voice. “Yes, _sir_ ,” she says flippantly.  
  
She’s unprepared for the wolfish smile he gives her in return. “Is that the way you want to play it, Kathryn?”  
  
Her eyebrow raises in query.  
  
Chakotay pushes his plate forward and folds his arms on the table, his eyes holding hers. “While we were on Latavan, you played a role that required you to act subservient toward me. And I couldn’t help noticing,” he pauses, making sure she’s listening – which she is, _intently_ – “that you seemed to enjoy it.”  
  
Her body flushes at the knowing look in his eye. “You noticed that?” she whispers.  
  
“There’s never a time when I don’t notice you, Kathryn.” His gaze caresses her face until she has to look away. “Eat,” he reminds her.  
  
Her hand trembles slightly as she picks up her fork.  
  
They eat in silence, the air thickening with the knowledge of what is to come, until Kathryn’s throat has tightened and she can’t manage another bite. She pushes her plate away and gulps at her wine, and Chakotay lays his cutlery neatly on his plate. The maid appears to clear the table.  
  
“Thank you,” Chakotay says to her. She nods and bustles out, and he turns to Kathryn. “How much time do we have?”  
  
“The holodeck is ours until 2200.”  
  
“Then I think it’s time you changed your outfit, don’t you?”  
  
Kathryn nods, and stands on shaky legs.  
  
=/\=  
  
She strips quickly behind the lacquered screen, tossing her clothing over the back of a chair and pulling on the sheer chemise. The corset fits loosely around her midsection and she ties it just enough that it won’t slip down over her hips. She takes a moment to draw a long, shuddering breath, knowing it’ll be the last time she can fill her lungs with air for a while.  
  
When she steps out from behind the screen, Chakotay is standing by the fireplace, a glass of wine held loosely in one hand. She watches his pupils dilate as he takes in the sight of her.  
  
“Come here,” he says, his voice rough.  
  
Her steps are hesitant as she moves toward him. He puts his glass on the mantel and waits until she’s a breath away, his gaze traveling over her from her loosely piled-up hair to her bare feet. She starts to tremble under the heat of his eyes. She can see he’s aroused – it’s in the tightness of his jaw, the way he’s holding himself so still – but he makes no move to touch her.  
  
“What are you waiting for?” she asks breathlessly.  
  
“I understand what you want from this arrangement.” His eyes are solemn. “But there’s something I have to do before we start anything. Something I need you to know.”  
  
“What is it?”  
  
He closes the distance between them, taking her hand and winding his fingers into hers. His other hand slides gently under her hair and tips her face up to his. His kiss is light as air and so filled with tender emotion it brings unwanted tears to her eyes. Her lips part and she breathes him in, her hands coming up to his chest.  
  
When he slowly pulls back, she opens her eyes and finds him watching her, hiding nothing. She swallows around the lump in her throat.  
  
“Chakotay, I —” She doesn’t know what to say. This is supposed to be simple, and what he’s just told her with his eyes and his kiss is anything but.  
  
He silences her with a thumb against her lips. “I just wanted you to know.”  
  
Despite herself, despite the sudden misgivings tightening her chest, her smile blooms under his fingers.  
  
“Do you trust me, Kathryn?”  
  
After a moment, she nods.  
  
“Good,” he says, and his voice hardens. “Now we can start.”  
  
Chakotay frees the hand entwined with hers, firmly gripping her wrist. His other hand shifts from beneath the weight of her hair, his fingers curling loosely around her throat, and she can’t stifle her gasp. Suddenly her heart is pounding. She feels his body move against hers, walking her backwards until her hip makes contact with the high back of the chaise. Her eyes are wide as she stares up at him. He’s so tall and so broad, and she can feel the reined-in strength in the fingers circling her throat.  
  
Her vulnerable, fragile throat.  
  
She wonders if he can feel her pulse fluttering against the pads of his fingers.  
  
“Trust me,” he repeats, and his hands move to her shoulders, turning her, taking her hands and placing them on the chaise back. His fingers glide up the length of her arms and she shivers at the light contact. One comes to rest on her hip. The other takes hold of the loops at the middle of the corset binding and he gives a slow, experimental tug. Kathryn sucks in air, tightening her grip on the chaise.  
  
“Are you ready?” he murmurs, so very close.  
  
“God, yes,” she manages.  
  
“Then hold on.”  
  
She widens her stance, bracing herself, and feels the corset mould around her as Chakotay pulls long and hard on the laces. She takes a tentative breath, feeling the constriction in her lungs, and shivers.  
  
“All right?” His mouth brushes her ear, and the touch sends a surge of desire through her.  
  
“More,” she whispers.  
  
He drags on the laces again, the hand on her hip tightening to hold her steady. She sips air, her head already light. As the corset draws in even further she lets her tortured breath out on a moan.  
  
Chakotay’s thumb strokes over the upper curve of her ass, delving slightly between her cheeks, and she gasps. He pulls tighter again and she drops her head forward, exposing the curve of her spine. He leans in to kiss it.  
  
“What is it that you like about this, Kathryn?” he asks, his voice a low rumble that she feels against her skin. “Is it the shortness of breath? The way it makes you so aware of your body?”  
  
He tugs hard and she groans. It’s almost tight enough… just a little more…  
  
“It’s a well-documented sexual practice,” he murmurs, his mouth moving lightly over the curve of her shoulder. “Erotic asphyxiaphilia; the achievement or heightening of orgasm through oxygen deprivation. Binding you into a corset is one way to achieve the effect, but there are others.”  
  
“There are?” she gasps.  
  
Chakotay tightens the corset that last, delicious bit and ties it off. “Would you like to find out?”  
  
“I – I don’t –”  
  
His hands drop from her body and she feels him step backward. His voice is hard.  
  
“Do you trust me?”  
  
“Yes,” she whimpers, trying to wriggle back into contact.  
  
He places a firm hand at the base of her spine, holding her still. “Noted,” he rumbles, then traces one finger up along the line of her stays. “But I think perhaps there’s more to this than controlled breathing.”  
  
In a move so quick she can barely blink, he grasps her wrists and brings her hands tightly behind her back, holding her firm with one big hand. His thigh pushes between her legs from behind, making her gasp and forcing her to arch her back to maintain balance. His other hand curves around her waist, flattening against her corseted ribs. She flexes her wrists in his grip and finds she’s unable to move them at all.  
  
Her entire body tenses, fight-or-flight instinct kicking in. She struggles, feels his grip closing to hold her more firmly. And then she takes a shallow breath, feels the corset cradling her body, his hands immobilising her, and finds that all the tension is draining from her muscles.  
  
She trusts him.  
  
“Good,” he whispers approvingly, his lips nuzzling her exposed neck. “Seems you like a little restriction in your movement as well. That’s something else I plan to explore.”  
  
Her heart is thumping so loudly she’s sure he can hear it, and her voice is strangled. “Are you going to tie me up?”  
  
Chakotay smiles against her neck. “Oh, undoubtedly. Another time.”  
  
He releases her wrists, catching her hands and threading his fingers through hers as he presses up against her from behind. He brings their joined hands to sweep upward over the bodice of the corset, cupping her breasts. The sheer fabric of the chemise rubs between their fingers and her swollen nipples and Kathryn shudders, her hips pushing blindly back against his arousal.  
  
“You’re so exposed like this,” Chakotay murmurs, the pads of his fingers circling lightly over her nipples. He extricates his hands from hers, holding her fingers over her own breasts. “Touch yourself,” he orders, and, trembling, she complies. His hands smooth down over the corset - pressing, squeezing, making her gasp – and one grips firmly onto her hip, the other pushing down between her legs. The indirect touch makes her buck and groan, her fingers stilling their movement on her breasts as she raises herself on tiptoe, tipping forward against his seeking hand.  
  
“No panties,” he murmurs appreciatively. “Just as I suspected. You like this, don’t you – making your body available to me like this, so I can see all of you and touch you wherever I want.”  
  
It’s not a question, so she’s spared from answering. Which, she reflects a little hysterically, is a good thing, because she doubts he’d believe her if she denied it.  
  
“I wonder …” His voice trails off as his fingers begin to gather the thin fabric between her legs, baring her thighs.  
  
“What?” she whimpers.  
  
“I wonder just how exposed you secretly want to be.”  
  
She stills, a frown of confusion marring her forehead.  
  
“Are there any characters in this holoprogram apart from the maid, Kathryn?”  
  
“Yes.” She wishes he’d stop the random patterning of his fingertips against her inner thigh; she already feels half-drunk on him, on this spell he’s weaving her in, and she can’t think clearly. “There’s the housekeeper, Mrs Templeton –” she breaks off on a harsh breath as he traces a finger along the inner crease of her thigh.  
  
“Anybody else?”  
  
“Lord Burleigh. The, uh, the –” his fingers brush her core and she moans. “The gentleman of the house.”  
  
“Computer,” Chakotay says, “activate Lord Burleigh character.”  
  
“What – wait –”  
  
But his fingers dip into her, coating themselves in her slickness and rubbing it over her aching clitoris and she loses the ability to speak, her thighs quivering as he strokes her. He anchors her with one arm firmly around her hips as her hands shoot out to grip the chaise for balance.  
  
“Oh – Chakotay –”  
  
“Lucy?”  
  
Kathryn squeaks, her eyes snapping open. Lord Burleigh stands in the open doorway by the fireplace, his eyes fixed on her, his holographic mouth open in horror.  
  
Chakotay chooses that moment to bite lightly down on her shoulder as he slides one curled finger inside her. Mindlessly, she thrusts forward onto it.  
  
“Lucy, what are you doing?!”  
  
“Lord Burleigh, I presume,” Chakotay says in a voice rich with satisfaction as Kathryn begins to shake.  
  
“Stop,” she protests weakly, her body belying her words as Chakotay works his thumb over her nub.  
  
The hologram takes a step forward. “Unhand her, sir,” he demands, but his gaze is fixed on Kathryn, taking in the flushed nipples visible through the chemise, the trembling thighs, the male hand stroking between her legs.  
  
“Do you really want me to stop, Kathryn?” her captor murmurs, adding another finger inside her. She moans. “Or should I let him watch me make you come?”  
  
“No…” but she doesn’t know which question she’s answering as she raises her heavy eyes to the hologram’s and Chakotay rubs his thumb over her clit and she feels that unstoppable rush of fire pooling in her belly and racing outward along her limbs, and she tries to suck air into her constricted lungs, her head spinning into points of light as her climax bursts over her.  
  
She’s not sure if she actually passes out for a moment, but she’s only dimly aware of Chakotay’s fingers gentling her down from her high as his other arm holds her upright. When sense gradually returns she looks at the Burleigh hologram, her cheeks burning with excited shame. He’s rooted to the floor, staring at her, his arousal evident through the tight breeches. As evident as the hard length she can feel pressing against her buttocks.  
  
Chakotay pulls his hand out from between her thighs, brings it to her mouth, and presses his fingers between her lips. Her nostrils flare at the scent of herself. Involuntarily she opens her mouth, sucking his fingers in and licking the taste of herself from them. She feels him shudder, the first sign she’s had of the tight rein he’s keeping on his own control, and closes her eyes.  
  
She feels clear-headed and powerful and oh, so wanton.  
  
“All right?” Chakotay says gruffly in her ear.  
  
Instead of answering, she tips forward, bracing her folded arms against the back of the chaise, and turns her head to look at him over her shoulder.  
  
“Fuck me,” she orders. “Do it hard, and do it now.”  
  
His dark eyes widen a little in surprise, and then he gives her that feral grin.  
  
“Yes, ma’am.”  
  
She hears him tug the waistcoat off his shoulders, feels the whisper of air as he pulls the shirt over his head, his knuckles brushing between her cheeks as he works open the buttons on his breeches. Then his hand splays across the base of her back, his knee nudges her thighs further apart, and he’s pushing his cock inside her, slowly, giving her time to adjust.  
  
But that’s not what she wants. She shoves herself backward onto him, revelling in the pleasure-pain of him filling her completely. Chakotay grunts, his hands curling hard onto her hips.  
  
“Computer, delete Burleigh –” he begins.  
  
“Belay that,” Kathryn cuts in. She flicks Chakotay a glance over her shoulder. “Let him watch.”  
  
In answer, Chakotay growls, pulling out from her slowly and driving back in. She gasps, fighting the closing of her eyes at the pleasure, forcing herself to watch the hologram watching them. Burleigh stands with his hands at his sides, his face a mask of shock, his holographic dick hard. She wonders, fleetingly, if his programming prevents him from taking any action – trying to stop them, perhaps, or joining in, or at the very least relieving himself – but her faint amusement slides away as Chakotay changes his angle and the head of his cock slams against her cervix.  
  
She cries out – it’s almost too much, too hard – but then his fingers are between her legs again, pinching and rubbing her clitoris, and her second orgasm screams up on her at warp speed. She arches her back, fighting desperately for air as sparks explode behind her eyes. Chakotay thrusts once, twice more, and she hears him shout as he spurts inside her, his bruising grip the only thing keeping her on her feet.  
  
Slowly, slowly, she comes back to herself as he softens inside her. His breathing is harsh in her ear and he whispers something she doesn’t understand. Then his hands, gentle now, are helping her upright as he slips out of her. She moans at the loss of contact, shivers at the gush of liquid spilling down her thighs. He turns her to face him, his hands at her waist, and she lets her gaze travel over his bare, broad shoulders, his smooth brown chest. She brings her hands up to rest against his warm skin, feeling his heart beat.  
  
Incredibly, she realises on a pulse of arousal, she’s not done yet.  
  
“Computer, delete all characters,” she says weakly.  
  
Burleigh vanishes, and she meets Chakotay’s eyes.  
  
“What now?” she whispers, her mouth curling up at the corners.  
  
He drops his head to nuzzle lightly at her throat. “Now,” he murmurs, “now I get to taste you.”  
  
=/\=  
  
Chakotay kneels on the floor between her spread thighs. He’s taken off her corset and chemise and she lies naked on the chaise, propped on her elbows to watch him. Her clit is throbbing in anticipation of his tongue, but he’s taking his sweet time in applying it.  
  
He brushes his mouth lightly over her soaked pubic hair and she can’t help but growl. “Are you trying to make me beg?”  
  
His eyes flick up to hers and before he lowers his mouth again she’s sure she catches sight of his dimples. “Maybe next time,” he mumbles.  
  
“Then _do it_ , goddamn it.”  
  
“Don’t rush me.” He nips her inner thigh sharply enough to make her flinch. “I’ve been wanting to do this for too long, and I intend to make the most of it.”  
  
She opens her mouth to – protest, complain, plead – she doesn’t know what, but the words die in her throat as he licks her slowly from stem to stern, finishing the move with a tight circle around her swollen nub. Her legs judder and her head falls back, arching her breasts ceilingward. He reaches up and cups one, finger and thumb clinching around her nipple. The other hand slides under her bottom, raising her to his suddenly busy mouth.  
  
“Oh, God,” Kathryn chokes out as his tongue delves inside her, curling upward to rub against the sensitive patch of flesh. He explores her, lapping up her juices and his seed as she gasps and writhes and moans. Just as she thinks she can’t take it anymore, he pulls back to lave her with long, slow licks, flicking her clit with the tip of his tongue. Her hips jerk. She’s on the verge, so close, almost sobbing with the need to come, but it’s not until he pushes two long fingers inside her that she tips over the edge, shaking and screaming with the force of her climax.  
  
Chakotay slows his movements in favour of less direct application of the flat of his tongue, waiting until her whimpers tail off a little before he increases the pace again.  
  
“No, no,” she whines, twisting away from him, but he clamps an arm over her hips.  
  
“Yes,” he growls, sucking her clitoris into his mouth, and unbelievably she howls again, her body tensing so hard she knows she’ll be sore all over tomorrow. She’s almost boneless when she comes floating down and opens her eyes, focusing in stages.  
  
Chakotay’s cheek rests on her lower abdomen, his hand stroking her clenched fingers where they rest on her hip. He’s watching her, his expression unutterably tender. “Hey,” he murmurs when she finally fixes her gaze on him. “Welcome back.”  
  
“Water,” she manages, so he’ll stop looking at her like that.  
  
He grins at her and the spell is broken. As he gets up to pour her a glass from the carafe on the table, she pushes herself upright, crossing her legs and wincing slightly at the rush of sensation this produces. By the time he turns back to her, she’s reaching for the chemise.  
  
“Don’t do that,” he says immediately, and despite herself she pauses.  
  
“Why not?”  
  
He hands her a glass. “Because you’re beautiful. And because you never need to hide from me.”  
  
Kathryn does not expect the lump that rises in her throat at his simple words, so softly spoken.  
  
“Chakotay…” She hesitates. “You know this isn’t –”  
  
He holds up a hand to stop her. “I know what this is, Kathryn. I know what you need, and I intend to provide it.” He kneels at her feet again, taking the glass from her nerveless hand so that he can clasp her fingers in his own. “All you need to do is trust me. Can you do that?”  
  
“I can,” she whispers. “I do.”  
  
“Good,” he says softly. He reaches out to touch her cheek for a moment, then stands. “Had enough for tonight?”  
  
She looks up at him speculatively. He’s so beautiful, with his golden, naked torso and his muscled legs in those fitted pants. “Computer, what time is it?”  
  
~The time is 2127 hours.~  
  
Kathryn smiles, a slow, curling, lascivious smile. “Then I’d say we still have enough time.”  
  
Standing, she hooks a finger over the waistband of his breeches, bringing him flush against her nude body.  
  
“What did you have in mind?” he asks, grinning down at her.  
  
“Well, you’ve had your turn,” she murmurs, leaning in to lick at his collarbone. “I’d say it’s mine now.”  
  
And she sinks to her knees.  
  
=/\=  
  
She’d almost forgotten how she loves to do this. The slow drift of fingers over corded abdominal muscles, the slipping of buttons one by one. Hearing a man suck in his breath as she presses open-mouthed kisses to the V of his hipbones, feeling his stomach quiver under her hands. And when she drags his pants over his hips and wraps her hands around his cock, when she swipes her tongue lightly across the head - the almost-pained hiss he makes through his teeth is the sweetest sound in the world.  
  
Kathryn swirls her tongue around him as though she’s licking a lollipop, nibbles gently along his shaft, presses her thumb beneath the glans, and Chakotay wraps his hands in her hair and grits his teeth on a groan. Smiling, she blinks up at him, unsurprised to find him staring at her with an expression made up of equal parts lust, disbelief and adoration. She’s good at this – or so she’s often been told – and she supposes it’s because it turns her on to an almost unbearable degree.  
  
It’s the power, the knowledge that she, small and female as she is, holds this big man literally in the palm of her hand. But it’s the pleasure as well, she recognises as she slides her mouth over the swollen head of Chakotay’s penis and feels him tighten his hands convulsively in her hair. The helpless, enchanted vulnerability that’s scrawled across his face as she sinks down, taking him deeper into her throat, delights her in a way that she rarely feels otherwise.  
  
And knowing that it’s Chakotay she’s giving this pleasure, giving her all, is intoxicating.  
  
A slight frown creases her brow at that thought – it feels a little too close to the wrong kind of emotion – but Chakotay moans as she flattens her tongue on the underside of his cock and she pushes the thought aside. Arching her neck, she flexes her throat and takes him in and in, ignoring the tears that prickle her eyes as she relaxes against the gag reflex, until her nose is buried in coarse hair and she can feel he’s fighting to stop his knees buckling. She hums around him, feeling as much as hearing him groan, and draws her lips back over his length, sucking lightly. A play of her tongue around the head, and she sinks back down. And again, and again, until he’s shaking with the effort of holding back from thrusting into her mouth.  
  
“Kathryn,” he gasps. “Close…”  
  
She murmurs around him to let him know she’s heard and increases her pace and suction, one hand coming up to cradle his balls. He rasps out a breath and shudders, his semen filling her mouth as she greedily swallows it down, and she feels an answering clench in her own sex.  
  
It’s a pale echo of the climaxes he’s given her earlier tonight, but it takes her by surprise. She’s always found this an erotic act, but this is the first time it’s ever made her spontaneously orgasm.  
  
Kathryn is short of breath as she pulls back from him, sitting on her heels and looking up into his softened, rapturous face. She’s barely had time to wipe a hand across her sticky mouth before he’s dragging her upright, wrenching her into his arms and kissing her, long and slow and deep.  
  
It doesn’t surprise her that he’s unbothered by the taste of himself on her lips; after all, he’d loved the taste of them together when he worked her up with his mouth after he came inside her. What does surprise her is how much his kiss makes her crave to do it all over again.  
  
The computer chirrups, _There are fifteen minutes remaining on this holodeck timeslot_ , and reluctantly Kathryn lowers her bare heels to the ground, breaking their kiss. She finds she doesn’t quite know what to say.  
  
Chakotay lets his arms loosen around her, catching her hand in his and bringing her wrist to his lips in a bookend of the first time he touched her tonight. She shivers, feeling her body tighten even after the past several hours’ activities. If they had more time…  
  
“Later,” Chakotay promises, reading her mind, and she smiles, bringing her other hand up to briefly cup his cheek.  
  
“Later.”


	2. Discipline

_Day 4, 1230 hours, Upper Engineering station_  
   
  
“Screw this fucking useless piece of shit!”  
  
Regretting her outburst, B’Elanna Torres immediately sends her captain an apologetic glance. “Excuse me, Captain.”  
  
Kathryn barely raises an eyebrow. “Carry on, Lieutenant. I was quite enjoying the expansion of my Klingon vocabulary until now.”  
  
B’Elanna huffs out a breath. “Sometimes even Klingon doesn’t cut it. I don’t understand this, Captain. The malfunctions seem to be completely random – the armory hatch controls, the EPS relays on Deck 14, the stellar cartography imagers. I can’t pinpoint the problem and it’s occurring in systems that should be sufficiently segregated from each other.”  
  
“Well, taking out your frustrations on the analysis console probably won’t help much,” Kathryn says mildly.  
  
“I know, I’m sorry, it’s just –” B’Elanna breaks off on a sigh, and Kathryn looks more closely at her.  
  
“You’re exhausted, Lieutenant,” she notes. “How long have you been on duty?”  
  
“I pulled an all-nighter,” the younger woman admits. “I couldn’t sleep knowing we’ve got system-wide failures and I’m too stupid to figure out why.”  
  
“You’re hardly stupid.” Kathryn puts down her caliper. “Go get yourself some lunch, B’Elanna. You need a break, and frankly, so does that console.” She smiles to take the sting out of her words.  
  
“Aye, Captain.” B’Elanna manages a half-smile in return. “I’ll see you in half an hour.”  
  
“Make it an hour,” Kathryn calls after her. “And knock off early tonight as well. Don’t think I won’t check your duty logs.”  
  
“Yes ma’am,” floats back toward her as B’Elanna swings her way down the ladder to the main Engineering level. She hears her greet someone entering Engineering just as she leaves, but her attention is already refocused on the fiddly adjustment she’s making to the secondary plasma node.  
  
It’s not until she feels someone observing her that she realises the newcomer is standing directly behind her. She backs out from under the console and swivels, crouching, finding herself facing a pair of black-clad thighs. Gazing upwards, she looks into the amused face of her first officer.  
  
“Chakotay. What are you doing here?”  
  
“I was enjoying the view,” he returns, holding out a hand to help her upright. His other hand comes up to her face, his thumb stroking gently across her cheekbone.  
  
“Not here,” she hisses.  
  
“You had grease on your face.” His expression turns sly. “And if not here, where? We’re alone.”  
  
Kathryn glances around the upper Engineering level and concedes that he’s right. However – “Maybe we need to refine those parameters,” she says, keeping her voice low. “This – arrangement should stay confined to private holodeck time.”  
  
Chakotay shifts closer to her, backing her up against the console. “Some rules were made to be broken, Kathryn.” His hand slides down around her throat, his thumb tipping her chin up. His lips are very close to hers as he whispers, “And I told you I’d give you what you need from this arrangement. Sometimes that means you won’t be the one _setting parameters_.”  
  
She flushes, unable to deny the thrill that runs through her at his boldness. He bends to take her lips and she brings her hands up to flatten on his chest, holding him at bay. “Not. _Here_.”  
  
He grins, easing back. “It’s been three days since I touched you, Kathryn. And if I’m not mistaken, you’re as interested as I am in a repeat performance. I have Holodeck Two booked for two hours from 2100.” Chakotay lets his hand fall from her throat and takes a step back. “See you there.”  
  
She wants to decline, just to put a dent in that smug self-assurance of his, but her body is loudly informing her that he’s _exactly_ what it wants, _right now_. So she bites her lower lip and gives a short nod.  
  
“Good.” He watches her speculatively for a moment, then steps forward again. “Just a taste,” he murmurs, and dips his head to nip lightly at her neck, just above her captain’s pips. Kathryn sucks in a breath, but before she can shove him away he’s moving back from her.  
  
“2100 hours, Captain. Don’t be late.”  
  
“I’m never late,” she retorts. “And you’d better make it worth my while.”  
  
Chakotay laughs as he climbs down the ladder, and Kathryn turns back to the console, satisfied at having got in the last word.  
  
=/\=  
  
_2100 hours, Holodeck Two_  
  
  
She’d expected to step into an outdoorsy scene, something with wide-open grassy spaces or perhaps a forest glade with a stream winding through it. When she thinks of Chakotay – and she thinks of him more often than she should - it’s often in a setting like that.  
  
Instead, the holodeck doors open into a shadowy chamber. French doors stand ajar on the far side of the room; translucent drapes prevent her from seeing what’s on the other side of them, but her attention is drawn instead to the tall candelabra flanking the doors, candle flames guttering slightly in the breeze. There’s a bureau along one wall, a closed door set into the other. From where she stands, squinting into the near-darkness, it appears that the only other furniture is a single hard-backed chair, placed in the centre of the room.  
  
“Chakotay?” she calls warily as she steps inside. The holodeck doors close behind her with an echoing clang that feels like finality.  
  
She wonders why she’s suddenly nervous.  
  
Chakotay steps through the French doors – perhaps a balcony on the other side? she wonders – and rests his hands on the back of the chair. He’s dressed in black from neck to toe. He looks … dangerous, she decides.  
  
“Hello, Kathryn.”  
  
Kathryn ratchets her chin up a notch. “Interesting program, Chakotay. What are we supposed to do now?”  
  
“That’s for me to know,” he replies. He lets his gaze travel over her from head to foot, taking in the loose hip-length tunic, leggings and slip-on shoes she’s wearing. “Nice outfit. Not quite what I had in mind, though.”  
  
“Oh?” She gives him a low-intensity glare. “What did you have in mind?”  
  
Chakotay jerks his head toward the closed door she’d noticed earlier. “You’ll find everything you need in there. You have five minutes.”  
  
Her jaw drops and she draws in a breath, but his voice cracks out before she can speak.  
  
“Do as I say.”  
  
“Or what?” she challenges, hands coming up to her hips.  
  
Chakotay moves so fast she barely sees him coming. She feels it, though. That iron grip, holding her wrists in front of her as he stares down at her, his body close.  
  
“Do you want to find out what happens when you disobey me, Kathryn?”  
  
She finds her breath is coming faster, her body leaning toward him, but she’s not ready to give in so easily.  
  
“Disobey you?” She injects derision into her tone. “Have we forgotten who’s in charge around here, _Commander?_ ”  
  
He leans in and speaks directly into her ear, his low voice making her shiver. “Not for a moment, _Kathryn_.”  
  
And before she can so much as breathe, he steps backward, jerking her with him. He sits on the chair, pulls her face-down over his spread knees, yanks down her leggings and underwear and cracks his hand down, _hard_ , on her naked behind.  
  
She yells out in shock, her body jolting with pain and surprise. His palm comes down a second time and she can’t stop herself yelping again. But by the third smack she’s expecting it, and she bites her lip to keep from crying out. A fourth blow, a fifth, and her ass is burning, tears of shame and anger prickling her eyes, but she makes no more sound than a hiss. If his hand wasn’t holding her wrists in such a punishing grip, if her soft-soled shoes could only find purchase on the floor, she’d be able to escape –  
  
His hand comes down again, but this time his touch is gentle, fingertip-light, soothing her scalded flesh.  
  
“I’ve always loved your ass, Kathryn,” he says almost conversationally. “But you know that, don’t you? You know I watch you when you walk in front of me or bend over Paris’ shoulder at the conn. Do you know how many times I’ve imagined just walking over, pushing you face down and pulling down your pants so I can put my hands on you?”  
  
He traces small patterns on her buttocks and she finds herself pushing slightly against his hand, her thighs relaxing outward. Her skin is so sensitised that even his light, indirect touch is making her pulse pick up and her body grow warm.  
  
“Your skin is so white,” he goes on. “Of course, it’s quite rosy at the moment. I like seeing the imprint of my hand standing out on that pale skin. Like a brand, showing the world that you’re mine.”  
  
“Fuck. You,” she manages from between gritted teeth.  
  
“All in good time.” His fingers wander between her cheeks, spreading her open, and she gasps. She knows he’s noticed when he continues, “I wonder if you’ve ever been taken here?” His fingertip dips and presses and she can’t suppress a moan. “Have you, Kathryn?”  
  
She clamps her mouth shut. And then his palm comes down again, _crack_ , and she groans. This time, though, as her body shakes with the quickly-flaring pain, she realises to her own shame and horror that she’s pressing upward into his spread fingers. Her legs have opened further of their own volition, and the moisture that’s been gathering between them since before she entered the holodeck has virtually become a flood.  
  
_This cannot be turning me on_ , she thinks in disbelief. But he spanks her again and this time the sound that comes out of her mouth is a whimper.  
  
Chakotay hears it, and his fingers stroke down between her buttocks again, and lower, testing her wetness. “Like a little rough treatment, do you, Kathryn?” She can hear the grin in his voice. “That’s interesting.”  
  
“Let me go,” she rasps, defiant, “and I’ll show you _rough treatment_.”  
  
He laughs. “Well, that sounds intriguing, and maybe we’ll play it your way another time. But not tonight.”  
  
He strokes a finger between her labia, gathering her liquid and spreading it up between her cheeks, wringing a gasp from her. “Now, I asked you a question,” he says, one finger pressing insistently against the puckered entrance as she tries hard not to wriggle away – or wriggle toward it. “Has anyone ever had you here?”  
  
She sets her jaw mulishly.  
  
He smacks her again, making her shudder and suck in air. “Answer me,” he orders, and he pushes his finger a little further into her and she moans, pressing helplessly into his touch.  
  
“Tell me, Kathryn.”  
  
Kathryn’s face burns and she hangs her head. “Yes,” she whispers.  
  
“And did you like it?”  
  
A pause, then, “Yes.”  
  
“Good to know.”  
  
Chakotay tugs her upright and lays one last, patronising pat on her bare ass. “Go get changed, now.”  
  
Furious, shaking, incredibly aroused, she yanks her leggings up over her stinging, reddened behind and shuffles toward the door.  
  
=/\=  
  
The room behind the door is empty except for an ornate wardrobe and a full-length mirror. Kathryn opens the wardrobe; a single piece of clothing hangs inside. She pulls it out and her eyes widen.  
  
Before she even puts it on, she can tell this flimsy excuse for a dress isn’t going to cover much of anything. The outfit she’d been laced into that final night on Latavan was a Victorian nightshirt in comparison to this.  
  
She pulls off her tunic and leggings, folding them neatly on top of her shoes in a corner of the room, and holds the dress up against herself, over her bra and panties. A glance in the mirror informs her that they’ll have to go as well. Evading the excitement reflected back to her from her own eyes, she tugs off her underwear and tosses it atop her discarded pile of clothes, steps into the dress, shakes out her hair and turns back to the mirror.  
  
The dress is made of a silver mesh so fine it’s almost transparent. The bodice, such as it is, hangs from slender straps and dips almost to her navel; when she turns to view the back, she sees that it dips even lower, only the shoestring straps criss-crossing over her back holding it on. The skirt is shorter than an early 'Fleet uniform. One false move in this outfit and she’ll be exposing a whole lot more than the parts of her Chakotay’s already had his way with tonight.  
  
_At least this time_ , she reflects, _it’ll only be for an audience of one_.  
  
No shoes have been provided, so she straightens her shoulders and steps barefoot through the door.  
  
“You’ve made some changes,” she remarks, looking around.  
  
Chakotay sits on the same chair as before, but beside him now is a low table bearing a bottle of wine and two glasses, one of which he picks up to sip from as he regards her. The bureau has been replaced by a lit fireplace with a thick rug in front of it, and there’s a large, flat cushion at his feet.  
  
“So have you.” He looks her up and down, slowly, appreciatively. “It’s a shame you don’t dress like that every day.”  
  
She cocks one hip. “And just where would I keep my phaser?”  
  
He grins.  
  
Kathryn walks toward him carefully, not trusting the dress to stay where she’s placed it as she moves. “What now?”  
  
He indicates the second glass. “Wine?”  
  
“Thank you.” She bends to take it cautiously, not missing the gleam in his eye as her bodice gapes open.  
  
“Have a seat.”  
  
Kathryn glances around. “Where, exactly?”  
  
“It’s your choice.” Chakotay sips again, watching her. “You can sit on my knee, or kneel at my feet.”  
  
Her eyes flash. “Not much of a choice, Commander.”  
  
“I imagine your ass is still a little tender,” he smirks. “I suggest kneeling.”  
  
Her hands go to her hips, a move she quickly reverses when the dress shifts across her torso. “I am not going to _kneel_ to you.”  
  
“What, you’ll only do that for diplomacy?” His eyebrows arch. “I could insist.”  
  
“But you won’t.” Her voice holds a dangerous edge.  
  
Chakotay observes her for a moment, then inclines his head, placing his wineglass on the side table. “For now. Come here.”  
  
She walks toward him, her eyes suspicious. When she’s near enough he takes the glass from her hand and tugs her between his legs. She tries to hide her trembling as he circles both wrists in his fingers and folds them gently behind her back.  
  
“Hold still.”  
  
He keeps hold of her wrists until she gives him a brief nod, then releases them, shifting his hands onto her hips. He caresses her hipbones lightly for a moment, then sweeps his palms up over her ribs, his thumbs tucking into the sides of her dress.  
  
“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he asks, his voice almost conversational.  
  
At her instinctive flinch of denial, he firms his grip and looks up into her face.  
  
“You are,” he repeats. “Whether you’re in uniform or a dress like this or wearing nothing at all, you take my breath away.”  
  
She shifts uneasily and her hands start to drop from behind her back.  
  
“Don’t move,” he clips out, and she stills. “Put your hands back and keep them there until I tell you otherwise.”  
  
Slowly, she obeys.  
  
“Good.” Still watching her face, he lets his fingers slip further into the low-cut sides of her dress, encircling her breasts with fingers and thumbs. Kathryn sucks in a breath, splaying her bare toes on the hardwood floor for balance. “You’re beautiful,” Chakotay says again, quietly.  
  
She bites her lip.  
  
“Have I ever lied to you, Kathryn?”  
  
His thumbs brush over her nipples and she shivers. “No.”  
  
“Then you know you can believe what I’m telling you.”  
  
Kathryn chooses her words carefully. “I – appreciate that you believe it.”  
  
“Not good enough.” He pinches her nipples sharply and she gasps. “We’ll work on how you see yourself. But first we need to work on you trusting me.”  
  
“I do trust you.” She meets his eyes. “I wouldn’t be here with you – like this – if I didn’t.”  
  
“Fair point.” Chakotay moves his hands onto the outside of her dress, stroking her breasts gently through the fabric. She closes her eyes, leaning into the sensation. “A week ago I’d never have imagined you would let me touch you like this. But how far does that trust go, Kathryn?”  
  
“What do you mean?” Her voice hitches as his hands slide back down to her hips and he begins to gather the fabric of her skirt in his fingers, drawing the material higher up her thighs.  
  
“You’re used to being in control,” he answers. “You’re responsible for making first contact with alien species and for how Starfleet and the Federation are perceived in this quadrant. You’re responsible for the survival of this ship and crew, from procuring the supplies we need to continue on our journey to keeping the faith that we’ll get home. There’s never a moment when you don’t carry that weight, Kathryn. Never a moment when you can let it all go and just be.” His hands rest lightly on her bared thighs as he gazes up at her. “Let me take some of the burden for you.”  
  
She blinks against the prickle behind her eyes. “You do, Chakotay. Every day. I rely on you for so much and I barely give you a word of thanks.”  
  
“I don’t need you to thank me, Kathryn,” he says softly. “I just need you to let me in.”  
  
“How?” she whispers.  
  
“Give me control,” he answers, and at her questioning look, “just for tonight. Let me do this for you.”  
  
She doesn’t understand, really. But she does trust him, and so she nods.  
  
Chakotay rises to his feet, takes her hands from behind her back, and walks her backwards to the rug laid before the fireplace. She curls her toes into its thick nap, feels the warmth of the holographic fire at her back. Chakotay releases her hands.  
  
“Close your eyes.”  
  
She obeys. “What are you going to do to me?”  
  
“The first thing I’m going to do is kiss you.”  
  
His hand cradles her face, tilting it upward, and she parts her lips in anticipation. His mouth is warm, the touch of his lips on hers light and teasing, and she sighs in pleasure as his tongue tangles with hers. When she tries to deepen the contact he pulls away, and at her small sound of disappointment he rests his thumb on her lips.  
  
“From now on,” he murmurs, leaning in so close his mouth brushes her ear, “you’ll do exactly as I say, and you won’t make a sound unless I give you direct permission.”  
  
“But –”  
  
The harsh snap of his hand coming down on her barely-clad buttock makes her yelp and jerk, her eyes springing open, and she automatically reaches back to rub at it, still smarting from his earlier paddling. “Chakotay, what –”  
  
_Crack_ goes his hand on the other cheek, and she hisses, both at the pain and the humiliation of her excitement beginning to build again. This time, however, she clamps her lips shut.  
  
“Good. You’re learning.” Chakotay steps back. “Keep your eyes closed and your hands behind your back.”  
  
She obeys, winding her fingers together tightly, needing the reassurance of her own body, the knowledge that she’s tangible, substantial, present. She senses the movement of air as he circles her. Not knowing where – or how – he’s going to touch her next, she feels exposed and aroused and just a little frightened.  
  
The touch of his mouth on her naked shoulder makes her start, and he places a hand on her waist to assist her balance.  
  
“You asked what I’m going to do to you,” Chakotay says, sucking lightly on the outer edge of her collarbone. “I’m going to put my hands and mouth on every inch of you. I’m going to stroke you and lick you and kiss you until you’re so desperate to come that you beg me to finish you off.”  
  
By the time he stops talking in favour of using his mouth on the hollow of her throat, she’s already tensing, trembling with anticipation at the pictures his words are creating for her. His lips trace a meandering path around the column of her neck, his hand burns into the skin at her waist, and she twists her fingers into each other to stop herself from reaching for him.  
  
The hand at her waist smooths upward, long fingers spreading across her ribcage, stroking her skin through the fabric of her dress. Gradually his fingers move upward, his knuckles brushing the underside of her breast. She bites her lip, leaning into his touch.  
  
“You want my hands on your breasts, don’t you, Kathryn? I can see your nipples poking through that dress you’re wearing. They’re standing up, begging me to suck them.”  
  
His hot mouth closes over one nipple but instead of sucking he closes his teeth over it, and she gasps, the sharp almost-pain sending an arrow of lust directly to her clitoris. He soothes it with his tongue, laving her through the dress.  
  
“Chakotay –”  
  
A sharp slap to her buttock reminds her to stay silent, and she clamps her mouth closed.  
  
“If you speak again without my consent,” he twists her other nipple between his fingers, “I’ll stop. Understand? You can answer.”  
  
“Please don’t stop,” she blurts.  
  
“All right.” His fingers stroke lightly over her breast, circling her aching nipple. “And Kathryn?”  
  
She waits.  
  
“You’re forbidden to come until I give you permission.”  
  
Her eyes spring open, her jaw drops, and his hand cracks on her backside again.  
  
“ _Eyes closed_.”  
  
She squeezes them shut. Between the light touch of his fingers on her breast and the white pain of her smacked behind, her muscles are quivering with tension. She’s so turned on she’s already hanging by a thread, and obeying his most recent command seems impossible.  
  
And when his other hand skates along the inside of her thigh it takes everything she has to stop her knees from buckling.  
  
He strokes her thigh lightly, his touch never reaching quite where she wants it to go, humming as she whimpers and squirms. “You’re soaked, Kathryn,” he says approvingly. “If I put my face between your legs I could drown in you.”  
  
She moans, the sound almost pitiful in its depth of need. A few moments more of this, a slightly more direct touch, and she’ll –  
  
“Don’t come,” Chakotay reminds her sharply and she bites down on a sob. He takes pity on her, moving his hand away, pressing it flat to her belly instead.  
  
“I can feel how close you are,” his voice is almost a growl. “You’re so tense, and I can feel you fluttering and twitching. Do you want to come, Kathryn?”  
  
She opens her mouth to answer and remembers, just in time, that he hasn’t given her permission. Her lips clamp shut.  
  
“Good girl.” There’s a smile in his voice. His hands curve over her hips. “You can barely stand up, can you? You’re so ready I could probably make you climax just by breathing on you in the right place.”  
  
Kathryn twists her hands together behind her back and lets her head drop forward. Her breath comes in short, harsh gusts.  
  
“Where should I breathe on you?” Chakotay asks. “Here” – he lets his lips hover over her collarbone, “here” – his mouth pauses over her nipple, and it takes everything she has not to push herself forward, “or here?” and he blows a stream of warm air between her parted thighs.  
  
The sound that escapes her is a tortured whine, and he laughs gently.  
  
“Don’t worry, Kathryn. I’ll let you come – eventually.”  
  
His hands curve around to stroke her ass. The mesh dress rasps lightly over the heated, stinging skin and she hisses through her teeth, but it’s a reprieve of sorts; enough to pull her back from the brink.  
  
A memory flashes unexpectedly into her fevered mind: Mark, grinning at her across a restaurant table as his fingers probed deliciously inside her underwear. She’d been on shore leave after the first long mission she’d taken since they started dating, and she’d wanted him more than her next breath. She remembers how shocked he’d been initially when she pulled his hand there, how he’d glanced furtively around to be sure they weren’t being watched, and how his misgivings had evaporated as her liquid gathered on his fingers. She’d climaxed silently, gritting her teeth and clamping her thighs together, trying desperately to control the arching of her back. They hadn’t made it home before she couldn’t wait any longer to have him inside her – hadn’t even made it to the hovercar. He’d fucked her against the wall of an alley, and it had been the hottest sex they ever had.  
  
She wonders, briefly, why they never did anything like that again… but really, she knows. For him it was a once in a lifetime experience. For her, it had been her first taste of a heady sexual banquet she’d wanted to explore over and over again.  
  
She wonders how Chakotay knows this about her, and what else he intends to show her. The shiver that ripples through her at that thought almost sends her over the edge.  
  
“Easy,” Chakotay murmurs, noticing. His hands hold her steady, and Kathryn bites down on her lower lip, wrestling back her control.  
  
“Lie down and raise your arms above your head.”  
  
Her legs fold beneath her immediately, her arms lifting. She lays one wrist over the other and waits.  
  
“Spread your legs,” he orders, and she does so instantly. She’s beyond all propriety or shame; she just wants him to make her come. Now. Hard.  
  
“Remember the rules,” he says, and then she feels the swipe of his tongue against the mesh fabric between her spread legs. He holds her steady with hands on her hips as he licks at her through the dress, her pelvis twisting to press closer, wrench away. She’s hanging on by a thread, and he pulls back to give her a moment. But when his mouth returns to her, there’s no fabric between them. He sucks at her bare flesh, and surely he can’t hold her responsible for the strangled “ _please!_ ” that rips from her throat?  
  
“God, your taste,” he murmurs. “You have no idea what you do to me, Kathryn. I could eat you for days.”  
  
His tongue circles slowly around her clitoris and she jolts, the first wave of orgasm beginning to pulse through her.  
  
“Shh,” he says, pressing a flat hand low on her belly, and it’s the hardest thing she’s ever done but she manages to tame the clenching of her inner muscles. She lies limp and panting, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.  
  
“Look at me,” Chakotay bids her, and she opens her eyes to find him crouched between her spread thighs, watching her face.  
  
His hand slides upward over her abdomen, tucking in under the low V of her dress, warm fingers stroking her naked breast. Kathryn arches into his touch.  
  
“Your skin is so impossibly smooth,” he tells her, holding her gaze. “So creamy and soft, and your freckles are like gold dust.”  
  
She squirms uncomfortably.  
  
“Stop that,” he says gruffly. “You’re going to listen to me, Kathryn, and believe what I’m telling you. Understand?”  
  
Hesitantly, she nods.  
  
He nudges her dress aside, exposing her breast. “Look at yourself,” he murmurs, the tips of his fingers trailing over her nipple. “Your breasts are perfect. Round and high, and your nipples are so pert they’re just begging to be sucked.”  
  
She watches as he leans in, taking her nipple in his mouth, and can’t stifle her groan as his tongue swirls over it. He sucks, nips, and she lets her head fall back, her fingers gripping each other above her head.  
  
“Beautiful,” his voice is muffled against her skin. “You’re so beautiful.”  
  
He looks up at her face and catches her biting her lip.  
  
“You still don’t understand, do you?” he asks softly. He shifts back to sit on his heels, hands on her waist, and drags her against his body. She feels him, hot and hard between her naked thighs, and can’t help pressing closer.  
  
More than anything, she wishes he were naked so that he could slide right into her –  
  
“Not yet,” he reads her mind. “I just wanted you to know what you do to me. Every time I see you, Kathryn, every time I hear your voice or smell your perfume, every time I _think_ about you, this is how you affect me.”  
  
His hips roll against her, leaving her in no doubt about her effect on him, and she sucks in a breath.  
  
“I thought it was bad before,” he says conversationally as he pushes the dress up to her waist and his fingers spread over her stomach, thumbs rubbing gently below her navel, “when I could only imagine you like this. Just your laugh or the tilt of your chin could fuel my fantasies for days. I’d look at your hands when I sat beside you on the bridge and imagine them touching me, and I’d have to excuse myself to my office.”  
  
She blinks up at him and realises he’s smiling.  
  
“Yes, I know how often that happened. Believe me, taking care of matters on my own was better than the alternative. Do you have any idea how often I’ve wanted to drop down in front of your command chair and bury my face between your legs?”  
  
Kathryn gasps, the visual so evocative she can’t help canting her hips against him.  
  
“And now that I’ve seen you, touched you, been inside you,” he thrusts gently back at her, “it’s all I can do to keep my hands off you…”  
  
A small frown creases her brow, and he intuits the reason immediately.  
  
“Don’t misunderstand me, _Captain_ ,” he emphasises her title lightly, “nothing could compromise my respect for you, and I’m still perfectly able to do my duty. Unless you think otherwise?”  
  
She thinks about the past few days since their encounter on Latavan: the way he’s shown perfect professionalism on the bridge, performed all the varied and onerous tasks of his job without fail, even the way he’d backed off that morning in Engineering when she was worried they’d be discovered. He’s right, she realises. Their working relationship remains intact.  
  
A knot she hadn’t even realised had formed inside her chest loosens, and her limbs relax. She smiles.  
  
“Good,” he smiles back. “I promise you, that won’t change.”  
  
His eyes darken again as his thumbs dip lower on her belly.  
  
“Beautiful,” he repeats, voice thick. “Look at how white your skin is, how slender your hips are. My hands look so big and dark on your body.”  
  
She looks down the length of her body as his fingers curl around her hips and catches her breath at the contrast.  
  
His thumbs glide through her pubic hair, glistening with her moisture, and he shuffles backward, lying belly-down to press his lips to her inner thigh. “You’re so wet,” he murmurs. “Is it just because you like to be touched, Kathryn? Or is it for me? You can speak.”  
  
She has to swallow twice to make her voice work. “It’s you,” she husks. “You do this to me. _You_ make me feel like this. Every. Damned. _Day_.”  
  
He makes a sound, a growl crossed with a groan, and surges forward to press his open mouth to her. His tongue sweeps inside her, swipes upward over her clit, he sucks at her hard and she screams, jolting her hips against his face. And just as she’s about to tip over the edge into what promises to be a blinding, toe-curling, nerve-shattering orgasm, he pulls away.  
  
“ _Chakotay!_ ” She’s almost crying. “God, please, _please_ let me come!”  
  
“Begging, Kathryn?” there’s a rough edge to his voice that tells her he’s not quite as in control as he seems.  
  
“Yes, damn it, if that’s what it takes, I’m _begging_ you!” She sobs, desperate, fingers clutching the rug above her head, her insides rippling and clenching at empty space. “Put your mouth on me, put your cock inside me, I don’t care, I just need you _now!_ ”  
  
“ _Fuck_ ,” the word is wrenched out of him, and he thrusts three fingers inside her and fits his mouth around her clitoris, sucking hard, and she shrieks, her hips twisting off the floor and her legs shaking as finally, _finally_ , she orgasms in a burst of ecstasy so fierce it’s almost painful.  
  
He guides her through the shockwaves as she writhes and screams and moans, his fingers and tongue slowing as her shudders calm to whimpering, twitching tremors, and when she finally lies limp and still with his fingers still moving gently inside her, she realises her face is wet with tears.  
  
“Kathryn,” he says hoarsely and she blinks up at him, her chest still heaving, and reads the desperate need on his face. Her inner muscles clench around his fingers and she gasps, her desire spiraling again.  
  
“Now, Chakotay,” she rasps. “I need you inside me _now_.”  
  
He yanks his T-shirt over his head and rips open his fly and grabs her by the hips, hauling her onto him, her back flat on the floor and pelvis lifted. Without further delay he positions himself at her entrance and lunges into her, his groan as he slides home the sweetest sound she’s ever heard.  
  
“Kathryn,” he grinds out, “so hot … God, your cunt … so fucking tight –”  
  
_Not so eloquent now_ , she manages to think, a shocked laugh bubbling up inside her and bursting into waves of fizzing sparks as he thrusts and grinds and grunts, driving her relentlessly into another clenching, gripping climax. Her howl as she comes apart around him pulls him over the brink with her, his head dropping back as he spurts inside her, yelling through gritted teeth.  
  
He bows his head, breathing hard, and she slumps boneless on the floor, her body twitching.  
  
“God,” she says shakily, unclasping her fingers from the rug. His fingers release her hips and he shifts, slipping out of her, the wet friction making her shiver and gasp. “Don’t go just yet,” she murmurs, meeting his eyes, and he smiles.  
  
“I’m not going anywhere.” He splays his hands over the hollows of her hips, thumbs stroking the outer edges of her labia. “Computer, what’s the time?”  
  
~The time is 2220.~  
  
“We have forty minutes,” Chakotay’s smile widens. “Good, because I haven’t finished with you yet.”  
  
His thumbs stroke inward, one dipping inside her, one circling her tender clitoris, and Kathryn wriggles and hisses. “Too much –”  
  
“Turn over.”  
  
“What?”  
  
He raises an eyebrow. “Do we have to go through the rules again?”  
  
Kathryn closes her mouth and glares, but her heart’s not in it and Chakotay laughs, tugging gently on her hip. She allows him to roll her onto her stomach and settle between her parted thighs, and then she looks back over her shoulder at him.  
  
“What are you going to do to me now?”  
  
He pulls back on her hips until her ass is lifted, the front of her pelvis resting on his knees, and spreads his hands over her buttocks. His thumb delves into her crack and she hitches in a breath. Chakotay smirks at her.  
  
“What do you want me to do to you, Kathryn?”  
  
Unbidden, her hips rise against his hands, the movement pressing his thumb against her anus.  
  
“Ah.” She can hear the smile in his voice. “That’s exactly what I had in mind.”  
  
“No, wait –” she starts, weakly, but it’s too late. His fingers dip into her vagina, gathering their mingled juices, spreading it upward between her cheeks. The tip of his forefinger slides inside her puckered entrance. She groans and tries to squirm away, but he holds her firm with an arm around her waist.  
  
“Relax,” he orders, and she finds herself loosening, her muscles giving up their tension as his finger slides deeper. She gasps and whimpers and moans as he works her up slowly, and by the time he adds a second finger she’s quivering, molten heat pooling low in her belly.  
  
Then she feels his renewed erection, slick with her moisture and pressing against her anus, easing in so gradually that there’s no pain, only a swelling depth of pleasure that makes her fist her hands in the rug and groan as she pushes back against him.  
  
“Okay?” he whispers, leaning forward to lick at her spine when he’s buried inside her as far as he can go.  
  
“God,” is all she can manage. “Oh, God.”  
  
“I’ll take that as a yes,” and he pulls out, slowly, until only the tip of his penis is inside her, then back in, his thrusts unhurried, deliberate. She mewls and sighs and arches. When she starts to grind her pelvis against his thigh on each outward stroke, he increases his depth and pace and slides a hand under her to rub at her clit.  
  
The sound she makes as his fingers start to stimulate her is wordless and comes from deep in her throat.  
  
“Yes,” he hisses, thrusting harder, and his other hand moves around so he can enter her grasping pussy with his fingers. She shrieks and bucks so hard she bumps her chin on the floor, but she doesn’t notice the pain. All her senses are focused on the way he’s filling her everywhere, and it’s only going to take a moment before she –  
  
Kathryn screams, thighs clamping tight around him, spine arching as she orgasms long and loud and violently. Chakotay grabs hold of her hips and slams into her once, twice, and then he’s coming too, shouting something unintelligible and slumping over her back. For long moments the only sound in the room is the harsh rasp of their breathing.  
  
Then Kathryn starts to laugh.  
  
“Hey…” Chakotay taps her gently on the cheek. “What -?”  
  
“Sorry,” she tries to stifle it, but he can see her shoulders quaking and it’s infectious, and before he knows it he’s snickering too.  
  
“What’s so funny?” he manages between gusts of laughter.  
  
“I was just thinking –” she heaves in a breath, trying to control herself, “how fortunate it is that I don’t have bridge duty tonight.”  
  
“Oh,” he realises, grinning, “you’d have to sit in that chair…”  
  
“I think my ass has taken quite enough punishment for one night, don’t you?” A fresh gale of giggles breaks over her and she has to rest her head on her folded arms. He buries his face in the side of her neck, chuckling, and then his arms come around her and he’s holding her tight, and she thinks how nice it would be if she could just stay here forever, lying in his arms.  
  
Her laughter fades.  
  
She shifts, and he slips out of her and both of them sigh, and then he’s helping her to her feet and holding her carefully as she finds her balance, and the computer warns them that there’s ten minutes left on their holodeck time.  
  
“I’d better get changed,” she murmurs, finding herself suddenly unable to look at him.  
  
“Do you want to shower first?”  
  
“No time.” She smiles ruefully. “I’ll just have to hope I don’t end up in the same turbolift as Tuvok or Vorik.”  
  
“Or B’Elanna.”  
  
“Damn their enhanced sense of smell.”  
  
Chakotay dips his head into the crook of her neck and she inhales sharply as he sniffs at her. “You smell delicious,” he whispers, his mouth trailing toward hers. She parts her lips, allowing his tongue inside, and they kiss gently, lazily for a moment until he pulls back and rests his forehead against hers.  
  
“I really have to go,” she sighs.  
  
“Will you be all right getting home?”  
  
Kathryn quirks the corner of her mouth. “I think I can find my way.”  
  
Chakotay straightens, stepping back. “Until next time, then.”  
  
“Yes,” she answers, “next time.”  
  
He touches her cheek briefly, and she watches him pull on his shirt and walk out of the holodeck, resolutely ignoring the plaintive, aching voice inside her that wants to beg him to stay and hold her through the night.


	3. Games

_Day 7, 1620 hours, Ready Room_  
  
  
“Enter,” Kathryn calls as the ready room door chimes, and smiles when Chakotay comes in carrying a PADD. “What’s that you’ve got there?”  
  
“B’Elanna’s report on the system failures.” He takes the seat in front of her desk and hands her the PADD. “She’s corrected the problems with the EPS relays and repaired the malfunctioning deflector controls, but now the replicators in the mess hall are experiencing random overloads. Ensign Baytart had to be taken to Sickbay with second-degree burns after his lunch incinerated in his face. He’s fine,” Chakotay adds hastily as Kathryn stares at him in alarm.  
  
Kathryn scrolls through the PADD. “The armoury hatch controls, the deflector dish, the stellar cartography imaging array, now the replicators on deck two – Chakotay, how can all these systems possibly be experiencing malfunctions almost simultaneously? Is it the gelpacks? Do we have another macrovirus on board?”  
  
She’s only half-joking, and Chakotay grins. “I had the Doctor scan all the biofilters and he couldn’t find any evidence of a virus.”  
  
“What about a technological one?” Kathryn sobers at the thought.  
  
“I’ve had Harry checking that possibility, too. So far he hasn’t found anything suspicious.”  
  
“Get Tuvok to work with Harry on it,” Kathryn orders.  
  
Chakotay leans forward in his seat, brow furrowing. “Is this a serious concern, Captain? You think there might be another saboteur on board?”  
  
“No, not really,” she sighs. “I’m just grasping at straws. Unexplained malfunctions keep me up at night.”  
  
He looks like he’s about to say something mischievous – she notes the appearance of a dimple – then clearly thinks better of it. “Understood. I’ll inform Tuvok. In the meantime, would I be right in guessing you haven’t eaten today?”  
  
Kathryn raises an eyebrow. “I hope you’re not suggesting we try the mess hall replicators. I prefer my face the way it is.”  
  
“I’m exceedingly fond of it too,” Chakotay smirks. “No, I was going to sacrifice some of my rations to the cause. Unless you think your replicator is behaving even more badly than usual?” He cocks his head toward the replicator behind her desk.  
  
“You want to buy me lunch?” She can’t help quirking the corner of her mouth and glancing up at him flirtatiously. “Who am I to argue, Commander?”  
  
Chakotay stands and offers her his hand. “You’re the captain,” he teases, “but in this case arguing wouldn’t do you any good.”  
  
Kathryn takes his hand and follows him over to the replicator, leaning against the wall beside it as he orders her a serving of vegetable bouillon. “Is there ever any point to arguing with you?”  
  
“Depends.” He raises an eyebrow at the low purr in her voice as he hands her a mug of bouillon. “What do you feel like arguing about, Kathryn? Crew evaluations? Course corrections?” He leans in and her breath quickens. “Sexual positions?”  
  
“Chakotay,” she flushes. “We’re on _duty_.”  
  
That dimple flashes at her again and she can tell he’s sorely tempted to offer her a dirty rejoinder, but instead he straightens and sweeps an arm out, indicating she should precede him to the couches below the viewport. “Aye, Captain.”  
  
“And stop staring at my ass,” she mutters over her shoulder, throwing him a low-level glare that’s ruined by the smirk she can’t suppress.  
  
He’s still grinning as he scoops up an armful of PADDs from her desk and follows her up to the lounge level.  
  
“Here,” he says, “you look over the Engineering report while I check Harry’s virus scans.”  
  
She reaches to take the PADD from him, forgetting she’s already holding her mug of soup, and spills it liberally down the front of her uniform. “Shit!”  
  
“Kathryn!” Chakotay grabs the cup and sets it on the coffee table, then pulls her to her feet. “Are you hurt?”  
  
“I’m fine –“ She peels off the jacket and glares down at her sodden turtleneck. “I’m a _mess_. And so is the carpet.”  
  
“Go clean up,” he waves her toward the ‘fresher, “I’ll deal with the carpet.”  
  
In her tiny bathroom she strips to the waist, realising the soup has leaked all the way through to her bra, and stands over the sink. “Damn it,” she grumbles, scrubbing uselessly at the stain on her turtleneck.  
  
“Kathryn?” she hears from the next room. “Are you all right?”  
  
“Fine, I just –”  
  
She doesn’t hear him coming. His reflection appears in the mirror before her and she gasps, dropping the turtleneck into the sink and covering herself with her hands. Then she realises how ridiculous that is and lowers them, trying not to blush at the heat in his eyes as he stares at her.  
  
“My uniform is ruined,” she mumbles.  
  
“I’ll replicate you a new one.” Chakotay lets his gaze travel slowly over the bare lines of her back, then disappears from view.  
  
Even her pants are stained, she realises in annoyance, kicking off her boots and tugging the trousers down her legs. She tosses them in the sink and grabs a towel to wipe at the places where the soup has dampened her skin.  
  
“Those,” Chakotay murmurs from behind her as he places a fresh uniform on the bench, “are most definitely not Starfleet issue.”  
  
He comes up close, placing his hands on her hipbones and tracing the edges of her skimpy cotton panties with his thumbs. “Chakotay,” she protests, but it sounds half-hearted even to her, and as he presses up against her back and she feels his rapidly hardening cock rub against her, she bites her lip and grips the edge of the sink.  
  
He kisses the back of her neck as his fingers delve into the crease of her thighs, and she groans, “We can’t –“  
  
“You’re right, it’s completely inappropriate,” his voice rumbles against her neck, sending a shiver through her. He moves one hand up to cup her breast, lightly squeezing her nipple between his fingers. “What if Tuvok walked in and found us? You, almost naked with my hands on you.”  
  
Her involuntary moan is loud enough to embarrass her.  
  
“Although from what you’ve told me, he might actually approve.” Chakotay taps a fingertip on her clit through the cotton panties and Kathryn bucks, head falling back against his chest.  
  
“I don’t think –” she gasps as his fingers rub against her quickly-dampening underwear, “that this is what he had in mind…”  
  
“Well, if you really want me to stop…” he withdraws his hands, placing them outside hers on the edge of the sink.  
  
She mewls in displeasure, pouting slightly as she meets his glinting eyes in the mirror.  
  
“It’s probably for the best,” he pretends to sigh, stepping away from her. “I’ll wait in the ready room while you make yourself presentable.”  
  
Kathryn presses her lips together to stop herself from demanding he return his hands and mouth to their previous positions. “Right,” she mutters.  
  
“Oh, one thing, Kathryn?” He leans over and plucks a small object that’s sitting on top of her freshly replicated uniform. “Before you get dressed, I want you to put this on.”  
  
“What is it?”  
  
“It’s probably easier if I show you.”  
  
She sucks in a sharp breath as his hand dives down the front of her panties, and she feels something warm and flat and pliable attach itself to her clitoris and mould itself up inside her, along her front wall. “Cha- _God!_ What _is_ that?”  
  
“You’ll see.” He removes his hand, pats her lightly on the behind, and saunters out wearing a disconcertingly smug grin.  
  
=/\=  
  
Sealed into her fresh uniform, Kathryn returns to her ready room with her chin held high to find Chakotay on her sofa, sipping a cup of tea and perusing a PADD. He glances up at her approach, gives her a brief smile and returns to reading Ensign Kim’s report on the computer virus scan.  
  
She glares at him for a moment but he remains unaware – or, more likely, unconcerned – so she sits huffily beside him and snatches the Engineering report from the coffee table.  
  
She holds out for almost five minutes, scrolling impatiently through Lieutenant Torres’ extremely thorough report, before she slaps the PADD down on the coffee table.  
  
“What exactly is this – _thing_ you …?” she presses her lips together, fuming.  
  
Chakotay keys off his PADD and reaches for another, stretching his legs out. “Curiosity killed the cat … Kat.”  
  
Her jaw drops, just a little bit. “What did you call me?”  
  
One dimple appears, but his eyes don’t raise from the PADD.  
  
“Commander,” she uses that tone that makes ensigns stutter and Vulcans stand straighter, “explain what you put in – what you did to me or you may just find yourself scrubbing the lavatories on deck fifteen for the next three weeks. On Gamma shift.”  
  
He grins, finally looking at her. “You really want to know, Kathryn?”  
  
She doesn’t deign to answer, simply raises an eyebrow.  
  
“All right.” Chakotay sets the PADD beside him and opens his hand to show her a small device. He makes a slight movement of his thumb across it, and fire licks across Kathryn’s clitoris, spreading through her belly, making her yelp and shudder. Chakotay twitches his thumb again and she feels – _tendrils?_ – winding their way inside her, rippling against her inner walls as vibrations curl around her clit. She gasps and arches and falls back on the couch, her body throbbing, moisture pooling fresh between her legs. The tremors increase and she moans and twists and writhes, and just as she’s about to explode, it stops.  
  
She lies there panting until her vision clears, and then she sits up slowly and turns to stare at Chakotay.  
  
“You put a – _sex toy_ inside me?”  
  
“I did,” his eyes are calm, amused.  
  
“There are …” she swallows, gets her breath back, “little _vines_ extending from it. Inside me. When you pushed that button.”  
  
“It’s called a Deltan trembler.” Chakotay grins. “Want to try it again?”  
  
Her mouth opens – she doesn’t know whether to be horrified or thrilled – and she finds herself saying, “God, _yes_.”  
  
Chakotay closes his hand over the device. “Maybe later.”  
  
“What?”  
  
He indicates the PADD she discarded. “Get back to work like a good girl, and maybe I’ll reward you later.”  
  
She’s about to protest, but something keeps her quiet. Instead she picks up the PADD and tries her hardest to concentrate. She’s finally managing to actually pay attention to B’Elanna’s report when she feels it – a low, subtle hum, a gentle throb, tendrils twisting and pulsing inside her. She tries not to moan, but her thighs fall apart and her head tips back of its own accord. Heat licks through her, tensing her thighs and hardening her nipples, the waves of pleasure building until she arches her back. The small tendrils inside her seem to grow, twist together, vibrating and rippling and stretching her until she has to grip the arm of the couch to keep herself from falling to the floor. A desperate whine escapes her and she feels the intensity rise and rise until she crests the wave and surges through her climax, shaking and gasping and gulping for air.  
  
When she opens her eyes, Chakotay is kneeling beside the couch, his gaze fixed on her face. His eyes are dark with need.  
  
“I love watching you come,” his voice is roughened. “You are so beautiful.”  
  
Kathryn hooks a hand around the back of his neck and pulls him close, kissing him greedily. Her tongue sweeps inside his mouth and her hands raise to fumble with his uniform jacket, and he groans and pulls back gently, holding her hands in his.  
  
“We don’t have time,” he smiles regretfully. “But I’ll see you tonight.”  
  
She sits up, flustered. “Tonight? I don’t have holodeck time booked.”  
  
“The party,” he reminds her. “Kes’ birthday. 2000 hours on Holodeck One.”  
  
“Oh,” she can’t hide her disappointment, then glances up at him slyly. “Do you want your, uh, trembler back?”  
  
“Keep it.” Chakotay gets to his feet, grinning down at her. “I might want to use it on you again sometime.”  
  
“Aren’t you concerned?” Kathryn leans back against the couch, idly tracing a finger down the length of her neck, and watches his gaze wander to its movement.  
  
“Concerned?” he sounds distracted.  
  
“Well, if I have this,” she watches him through her lashes, “what do I need you for?”  
  
Chakotay laughs. “I’ll pick you up at eight. Casual dress – Kes insists on it.” He turns for the door. “Oh, and Kathryn?”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Don’t wear any panties tonight.”  
  
=/\=  
  
_2000 hours, Holodeck One_  
  
  
It’s possible that Kathryn overcompensates for following Chakotay’s directive by selecting the staidest dress she can find in her closet. Black, modestly cut with a neckline that barely reveals her collarbones and a skirt that falls to mid-calf, it clearly pleases Chakotay nonetheless, if the widening of his eyes and the slow head-to-toe visual sweep when she lets him into her quarters is any indication. She twists her hair into a loose chignon and hooks in some jet earrings Phoebe gave her for a long-ago birthday, slips her feet into low-heeled shoes and tells him she’s ready.  
  
In the turbolift, he stands slightly behind her and to the left as always, and the warmth radiating from his chest makes her want to lean back into him. She’s still on edge from her climax earlier – one orgasm has never been enough to satisfy her, and now that she knows how Chakotay can play her body until she’s limp and wrung out from pleasure, her nerves are humming with the need for more – but it’s more than that. She thinks about the way he looks at her when she comes, the gentle way he holds her and strokes her hair when they’ve reached the point of physical satiation, the way he kisses her goodnight.  
  
What would it be like if instead of leaving the holodeck separately after they’ve satisfied their carnal needs, they could lie naked and entwined in a bed, her cheek pillowed on his chest and his arms wrapped around her as they fell asleep? What would it be like, waking up with him, kissing him gently with sleep-slack lips before they made lazy, languorous love?  
  
_I can’t afford to be preoccupied with some love affair_ , she’d protested when Tuvok pointed out that starving herself of physical contact with another human being was detrimental to her emotional health, and he’d replied, _I don’t believe I mentioned a love affair._  
  
_That’s not what this is_ , she reminds herself, curling her nails into her palms as she fights the urge to relax back into Chakotay’s arms. _This is sex, nothing more_.  
  
The turbolift arrives on deck six and she feels Chakotay’s hand resting warm on her lower back, guiding her, letting her know he’s there, just as he always does. It’s ridiculous that the simple gesture makes her blink back tears, and so she bites her lip until the tears melt away and moves briskly down the corridor to the holodeck.  
  
It’s easy to push it aside as they enter the holodeck and she pastes on her practiced smile, greeting the crew, wishing Kes a happy birthday. She intends to follow her usual pattern – one drink she nurses throughout the evening, a little conspicuous mingling, then a judicious retreat to her quarters when she decides she’s put in enough of an appearance. Chakotay, however, has other ideas.  
  
“Dance with me,” he murmurs, coming up behind her and making her startle.  
  
“You know I can’t.” She smiles brightly at Ensign Macomak and Crewman Gennaro as they pass.  
  
“All right, how about a game?” He indicates the pool table, where Paris has just finished soundly whipping Lieutenant Hargrove.  
  
Kathryn quirks a smile. “Oh, you think you can take me?”  
  
“You really don’t want me to answer that in polite company, Kathryn.”  
  
She flicks him a glance from under her lashes. “Pool isn’t really the game I’d rather be playing tonight, Chakotay.”  
  
He gives her a hot look in return, and she hopes fervently that nobody’s watching them too closely. “Tell me more,” he suggests, inching a little closer. She feels her shoulder brush his chest and fights the urge to press back against his hips.  
  
“I followed your instructions,” she whispers.  
  
Chakotay presses against her from behind, his hand brushing lightly over the curve of her buttocks and lingering in the cleft between them. “So you did.”  
  
“Subtle, Commander,” she mutters, very glad that the lights are dim and there’s a wall behind them, and that the ever-observant Tom Paris is engrossed in working the table against his next challenger.  
  
“You did say we should restrict this to the holodeck,” he murmurs as one finger dips and strokes, and she squirms away.  
  
“ _This_ isn’t exactly what I had in mind,” she answers breathlessly, then bites her lip. “That said, you might be interested to know that I’ve upped the ante.”  
  
“How so?”  
  
“You gave me a gift earlier today,” she murmurs, shifting her hips slightly to be sure he gets her meaning, “and it would be such a shame not to enjoy it to the fullest.”  
  
“Kathryn…” he turns to grin at her fully, and she can only hope they continue to be unobserved, “are you telling me you’re wearing my gift tonight?”  
  
“That’s what I’m telling you,” she breathes. “And I’m also telling you that I have no intention of taking it off until morning.”  
  
Before she can give into the flush that wants to work its way up from her belly, she moves away, but –  
  
“Captain,” Chakotay calls softly.  
  
She halts, turning back to him.  
  
He opens his hand and she catches sight of the small device nestled in his palm. Her eyes fly up to his face and find that he’s smiling.  
  
“Game on.”  
  
She walks away on unsteady legs.  
  
=/\=  
  
Her neck prickles at the knowledge that he’s watching her from across the room as she listens to Neelix prattling on, but when she finally dares to glance in his direction he’s involved in a teasing conversation with Henley and Fitzpatrick and isn’t even looking at her. Kathryn rolls her shoulders irritably, forcing a polite smile onto her face for Neelix’s sake. She knows Chakotay has every intention of using that device on her tonight – after all, she’s as much as dared him to – but waiting for it is driving her higher and higher into a spiral of breathless, nervous anticipation.  
  
It isn’t until she’s given into Neelix’s exhortations to have a second glass of wine and is chatting to Susan Nicoletti about the lieutenant’s recent interest in Bajoran poetry that she feels it: the low, gentle purr against her most intimate parts. It’s mild enough that she’s able to control her reaction and carry on the conversation, but she knows that won’t last.  
  
For the moment, though, it’s a tease, a little added frisson to an otherwise predictably pleasant evening. And she _likes_ it.  
  
She catches Chakotay’s eye across the pool table, and he rewards her poker face by dialling up the intensity a couple of notches. Kathryn sucks in an involuntary breath as the tiny tendrils begin to twine and pulse, and has to clear her throat before she can answer Nicoletti’s expression of concern.  
  
“Fine, thank you, Lieutenant. Excuse me,” she keeps her back straight and her face neutral, sailing past crew members with a nod and a professional smile until she reaches her devious first officer, lounging against the far wall.  
  
“You look pleased with yourself,” she mutters.  
  
He keeps his gaze on her face. “Not as pleased as I am with you.”  
  
She smirks. “You ain’t seen nothing yet, Commander.”  
  
“That sounds like a challenge.” He moves his thumb slightly against the device hidden in his palm, and she can’t stop the gasp that escapes her or the tightening of her spine as the tendrils inside her begin to pulse and swell. “Still game enough to play, Captain?”  
  
“Bring it,” she whispers, but her voice is huskier than ever, and she amends, “but I’m trusting your judgement on this, Chakotay.”  
  
His eyes soften. “You know you can trust me, Kathryn.”  
  
The way he says her name is equally responsible for the gentle welling of pleasure in her groin as the device he’s using.  
  
“I’ll be here for another half hour or so,” she murmurs.  
  
“Then I’d better make it an interesting half hour.”  
  
And he raises the level on the Deltan trembler, and Kathryn tries very, very hard not to moan.  
  
“Captain,” Tom Paris sidles in front of her holding a pool cue, “I’ve been trying to catch your eye all night. Fancy a game?”  
  
“Oh.” She tries to focus. “I don’t think –”  
  
“Why not, Captain?” Chakotay interjects smoothly, “after all, you did mention you were in the mood for games tonight.”  
  
She glares at him, then turns back to Paris. “Not tonight, Tom. Why don’t you play the Commander? Unless, of course, you’re looking for a challenge.”  
  
Paris glances between them, opens his mouth, thinks better of it.  
  
“Are you calling me easy, Captain?”  
  
“Not at all, Chakotay.” Kathryn smiles at him sunnily. “Quite the opposite, in fact.”  
  
She catches sight of Tom’s face and realises she might have taken it just a little too far.  
  
“Uh, if you’ll excuse me –”  
  
~Torres to Captain Janeway.~  
  
_Thank God_. “Janeway here.”  
  
~We’re having some problems with the magnetic constrictors, Captain. Warp core pressure is at thirty thousand kilopascals and rising.~  
  
“I’m on my way.” She closes the channel and realises immediately that the little toy’s pulsing has stopped; she sends Chakotay a quick, grateful smile. “You two had better get to the bridge.”  
  
B’Elanna is working furiously at a console when Kathryn arrives in Engineering. “Thirty-eight thousand kilopascals,” she says shortly, before Kathryn can call for a report. “If we can’t reduce the pressure we’re going to have to shut down the core when it hits forty-five, and it’ll take at least four hours to reinitialise.”  
  
“I’ll monitor plasma flow,” Kathryn moves beside her. “Containment is at seventy-eight percent and falling. Can you lock down the constrictors?”  
  
“Tried that,” B’Elanna clips. “Can’t regulate power flow to the interlock chamber.” She slams her hands on the console. “Damn it, what the hell is going _on_ on this ship?”  
  
Kathryn glances at her. “Are you suggesting this is related to the other system failures?”  
  
“I have no idea!” Torres’ voice rises in frustration. “Captain, I’ve run dozens of diagnostics over the past four days and the only pattern I can find is that the malfunctions are all preceded by what appears to be a random power spike in the affected system. But I don’t know what’s causing the power fluctuations!”  
  
The computer beeps a warning before Kathryn can respond – warp core pressure is at forty thousand kilopascals – and B’Elanna turns back to her station.  
  
“Captain, I have an idea.”  
  
“Well, don’t keep it to yourself, Lieutenant.”  
  
“It’s unorthodox –”  
  
Kathryn doesn’t bother mentioning that she’d expect nothing less.  
  
“If I can bypass the magnetic constrictors, I might be able to lock them down. But I’ll have to trick the computer into thinking the core is about to breach.”  
  
“You’re thinking about initiating a power feedback loop through the plasma relays,” Kathryn guesses. “You realise that could just as easily cause the breach we’re trying to prevent.”  
  
“Not if I can route it through the secondary EPS buffers and redistribute the plasma flow. Captain, I can do this.”  
  
“All right, Lieutenant. I’ll keep monitoring the plasma distribution.” Kathryn links her console into B’Elanna’s so they’ll both see the same readings at the same time, then nods. “Do it.”  
  
=/\=  
  
_0045 hours, Captain’s quarters_  
  
  
She’s exhausted by the time she finally returns to her quarters. The core breach had been narrowly avoided, the magnetic constrictors coaxed into performing their required function, and B’Elanna sent, protesting, to bed, although Kathryn suspects she’ll find her chief engineer back on duty long before her assigned morning shift.  
  
She kicks off her heels, pulls the black dress over her head, unclips her bra and tosses it in the approximate direction of the bed. She’s just heading into the ‘fresher when her commbadge peeps. Sighing, she plucks it off the front of the discarded dress.  
  
“Janeway.”  
  
~It’s Chakotay.~  
  
She can’t help smiling. “Don’t tell me you’re still on the bridge? I told you to get some rest.”  
  
~I just got back to my quarters, and the computer tells me you’re home too. Tired?~  
  
“Like you wouldn’t believe.” She stretches her neck as she wanders into the bathroom.  
  
~Then I’ll leave you to get some sleep.~  
  
“No, wait,” she finds herself saying. “Talk to me?”  
  
A slight pause, and his voice comes through sounding warmer. ~Okay. What are you doing?~  
  
“Computer, activate water shower, thirty-seven degrees,” she says, by way of both answer and order.  
  
Chakotay chuckles. ~So I guess that means you’re naked.~  
  
“Well,” she steps into the shower and glances down at herself, “almost naked. There is one thing I’m still wearing. And I hope it’s waterproof.”  
  
~Really?~  
  
“Have you ever known me to break my word… or back down from a challenge?”  
  
~Never.~  
  
She props her commbadge on a small shelf and squirts a handful of shower gel into her palm.  
  
~What are you doing now?~  
  
“I’m, uh, washing myself.”  
  
~Which part?~  
  
Kathryn smirks. “My shoulders. My arms. My, uh, chest.”  
  
~Tell me.~  
  
She wonders if he can tell she’s blushing through the commline. “I’m not sure I – uh…”  
  
He picks up on her hesitation. ~Then I’ll tell you what I’m picturing you doing.~  
  
“Okay,” she almost whispers.  
  
~You’re lathering up your shoulders, digging your fingers into the muscles and craning your neck in the way you do when you’re all tensed up. If I were there with you I’d be rubbing your neck right now, working the lather into your skin. What does it smell like?~  
  
“Huh?” She’s so busy imagining he’s there with her, doing as he describes, that the question throws her off.  
  
~Whatever you’re using to wash yourself.~  
  
“Oh. My shower gel. Um, it smells like jasmine, I guess.”  
  
~That explains it, then.~  
  
“What?”  
  
~Why I get hard whenever I walk past the jasmine vines in the hydroponics bay.~  
  
Kathryn snorts. “How Pavlovian of you, Chakotay.”  
  
 ~What can I say? You’re a biologically potent stimulus.~  
  
“I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”  
  
She can hear the smile in his voice when he replies. ~Are you still tense?~  
  
“Not so much. No.”  
  
~Where are your hands now?~  
  
She looks down at herself and blushes. “Um. On my breasts.”  
  
~How?~  
  
“Kind of … cupping them.”  
  
~Put your fingers on your nipples.~  
  
“They already are,” she almost whispers.  
  
A brief pause, then: ~Is that because you’re thinking about me?~  
  
“Yes,” she murmurs.  
  
~Are your nipples hard, Kathryn? Are they standing out, all rosy pink and begging to be touched?~  
  
“Yes…”  
  
~Keep touching them. Pinch them between your fingers and thumb.~  
  
She closes her eyes, following his instructions.  
  
~What are you thinking about?~  
  
“Your mouth.”  
  
~Where do you want my mouth?~  
  
“Right now?” She bites her lip. “I love the way you kiss my neck.”  
  
~I can tell. You do this little shiver when I kiss you just under your ear. If I were there right now, I’d be sucking at that spot and holding your breasts in my hands, rubbing your nipples with my thumbs.~  
  
She can’t help sighing in response.  
  
~Where else do you need to be washed, Kathryn?~  
  
“I’m soaping my stomach right now. And lower.”  
  
~You know, if I were washing you, I’d kneel in front of you while I soaped your stomach and hips. I wouldn’t be able to resist leaning forward and kissing you there while I slicked all that soap between your thighs.~  
  
Her reply is something approaching a moan.  
  
~Where are your hands now, Kathryn?~  
  
“Where you just said. I, uh, I had to move your trembler. But it’s back in place now.”  
  
~You’re holding out on me. Did you touch yourself?~  
  
She chews on her lip. “A little…”  
  
~Did you imagine it was my fingers touching you? My mouth on you?~  
  
“Yes.”  
  
~I can hear a but.~  
  
Kathryn hunches her shoulders as if he can see her. “I’m not good at it.”  
  
~Imagining?~  
  
“No. Touching myself. I never have been.”  
  
~You’re full of surprises.~  
  
“Why do you say that?” she asks defensively.  
  
~Because you’re the most sexually responsive, highly orgasmic and passionately abandoned woman I’ve ever been with. It surprises me that you didn’t get that way by knowing how to touch your own body.~  
  
“Oh,” she breathes, and can’t help smiling. “I don’t know… it’s always just seemed so mechanical. Like there’s something a little sad and desperate about having to do it myself.”  
  
There’s a long pause.  
  
“Chakotay? Are you still there?”  
  
~You really don’t understand how much you’re worth, do you?~  
  
She sucks in a breath. “What do you mean?”  
  
~You won’t believe me when I tell you you’re beautiful. You see your body as a necessary tool to do what you have to do, and you disregard it as much as possible. You don’t believe your physical pleasure is important for its own sake. You like sex – that much is clear – but you think you should be able to rise above it. It took a Vulcan to make you see that you have needs just like any other person, and you still feel like there’s something shameful about it.~  
  
Kathryn squirms. “Well, thanks for the psychoanalysis, Commander.”  
  
~Don’t freeze up on me now. I’m not saying your body is more important than how you use your brain, or who you are inside. I’m just saying you can’t ignore it. It’s part of what makes you who you are, which is a strong, brave, smart and beautiful woman, and I –~  
  
He cuts himself off abruptly, and she swallows hard against the lump that’s risen in her throat at his impassioned words. She tries not to wonder what he’d stopped himself from saying.  
  
“Chakotay?” she asks warily.  
  
~Nothing. Are you all clean now?~  
  
“Yes. Computer, terminate water shower and sonic dry.”  
  
~Do you want me to leave you to go to sleep now?~ His voice is softer.  
  
She should; she knows it. But – “No,” she says quietly. “Keep talking to me? Unless you’re too tired.”  
  
~I’m not too tired. Tell me what you’re doing now.~  
  
“I’m dressing for bed…”  
  
She hears the gentle humour in his reply. ~Let me guess – something that covers you from neck to toe and hides you completely?~  
  
“Hey,” she grumbles.  
  
~Well, Kathryn, I can only base my assumption on experience. And that’s what you wore on New Earth.~  
  
She hesitates in the act of dressing. “There was a reason for that, Chakotay.”  
  
~Okay,~ he says softly. ~So what are you wearing?~  
  
“Not what I wore on New Earth.”  
  
~Come on,~ he teases. ~Flannel pyjamas? A high-necked nightshirt?~  
  
“Not even close,” she almost purrs. “It’s black, and it’s satin, and it doesn’t hide much at all.”  
  
When he answers, there’s a roughened edge to his voice. ~Well, now I won’t be sleeping any time soon.~  
  
Kathryn smirks.  
  
~What are you doing now?~  
  
“Brushing my hair.”  
  
~Do you wear it down when you’re in bed?~  
  
“Usually.”  
  
~I can picture it spread out on your pillow around your face. I love your hair.~  
  
“I’ve noticed.” She puts down the hairbrush and pulls back the bedcovers.  
  
~Are you in bed now?~  
  
“Mm-hmm.”  
  
~Did you just yawn?~ he laughs.  
  
“I told you I’m tired… Don’t go just yet though.”  
  
~All right. Tell me more about black satin.~  
  
“Well…” she fingers the fabric, “it’s very short, the straps are thin, and it has a very low neckline.”  
  
~So if I kissed that spot under your ear, and then moved my mouth along your shoulder, I could nudge off the strap with my lips…~  
  
“It wouldn’t take much,” she feels arousal beginning to rekindle at his words.  
  
~And then your breast would be exposed, and I could bend down and take your nipple in my teeth.~  
  
“You could.” Unbidden, her fingers drift over her throat and downward over satin, lightly tracing the outline of her hardened nipple.  
  
~I’d put my hands on your waist and you’d feel them through the satin, feel it sliding against your skin.~  
  
Kathryn licks her lips, her free hand gliding over her abdomen.  
  
~I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands there, though. I’d have to move them around to your ass and cup it through the satin. And then I’d move my hands lower, on the backs of your thighs, and you’d part them for me, enough to let my fingers slide in between.~  
  
“Oh,” she says involuntarily as her own fingers travel to the crease of her thighs, her other hand stroking and pinching one taut nipple.  
  
~I wonder if you’d be wet for me,~ Chakotay’s voice lowers almost to a growl. ~Are you, Kathryn?~  
  
She slides a finger past the trembler and into her own core, feeling the clench and pulse of arousal.  
  
“Yes –” and that’s when she feels the little device hum to life. “ _Oh_.”  
  
~What are you feeling?~  
  
“It feels like –” she inhales, “like fingers stroking me. It’s – _God_.”  
  
~I’m going to kneel in front of you now, Kathryn. Spread your legs for me.~  
  
She lets her thighs fall apart.  
  
~What do you want, Kathryn?~  
  
“Your mouth,” she gasps, “I want you to lick me.”  
  
The gentle rubbing on her clitoris changes into longer, flatter strokes.  
  
~Like that?~  
  
“God. _Yes_. Don’t stop.”  
  
~What else do you want?~  
  
“Your fingers. Put them inside me…”  
  
The tendrils begin to extend from the small device, thickening, lengthening as they push their way up inside her. The long strokes on her clit increase in speed, flicking at her nub as she arches and gasps.  
  
~You like that? Are you riding my hand, Kathryn?~  
  
She moans, unable to form words.  
  
~Should I put my fingers anywhere else?~  
  
She feels another slick tendril extending further back, probing gently between her cheeks. “ _Fuck_. Yes,” she whimpers as the tendril pushes inside.  
  
~I’m going to make you come now…~ Chakotay’s voice sounds thick, hoarse.  
  
The pulsing tendrils filling her increase in speed and intensity, the tongue-like stroking pulls and laves at her clitoris, and Kathryn cries out in elation as she reaches her peak, twisting her body off the bed as a rush of moisture leaks between her thighs. As she floats down from her high, she feels the tendrils retracting, the device now inert, and she sighs in pleasure.  
  
~How are you feeling?~ Chakotay asks softly.  
  
“Amazing,” she’s so relaxed she almost slurs, then rouses herself enough to ask, “but what about you?”  
  
He laughs. ~Don’t worry. I’ll take care of myself.~  
  
Her brain serves up an image of Chakotay, head thrown back and fist wrapped around his cock, and she moans. “I wish I could taste you.”  
  
The commline falls silent for a moment, then his voice comes through sounding strangled. ~You have no idea what it does to me when you say that.~  
  
“Oh,” she curls on her side, smiling with closed eyes, “I think I do.”  
  
Her voice trails off on a yawn, and Chakotay laughs softly. ~Go to sleep, Kathryn.~  
  
“Okay,” she mumbles, almost there already. “G’night.”  
  
~Sweet dreams,~ he murmurs, and signs off.


	4. Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the extra-dirty version of this chapter. If you’d rather read one that’s marginally less depraved, please head on over [here](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12359047/4/Bound).

_Day 9, 1900 hours, Holodeck Two_  
   
  
The minutes tick by – 1910, 1915 – and she starts to pace.  
  
He’s late.  
  
It’s only been four days since she last had him inside her, two since he’d given her that sex toy and talked her into orgasm. Not a long time, by any means; nothing really, compared to how long she’s gone without sex prior to starting this … _arrangement_ , as she chooses to think of it.  
  
She shouldn’t be so desperate to be with him again.  
  
And it’s not as though they’ve had the opportunity to meet, in any case. A power drain in the port nacelle had forced _Voyager_ to limp along at impulse for half a day, and no sooner was the problem repaired than four crewmen were injured when the graviton stabilisers failed on Deck Seven. B’Elanna had been so stressed out that she’d torn strips off a crewman simply because he misheard one of her orders and realigned the wrong optical assembly in Jeffries tube 57. Kathryn had sent her off duty for twenty-four hours, ordering her to find something entertaining to do and stay away from Engineering.  
  
It took a pointed suggestion from Tuvok to make her reluctantly clock off her own duty shift and follow the same order.  
  
But she’s already feeling guilty over cashing in the privileges of rank and bumping the Delaney twins from their holodeck booking tonight, and if that was all for nothing… Kathryn swivels to complete another circuit of the room.  
  
She’s too proud to contact him over the comm. But as she watches the clock – 1920, 1925 – and realises a quarter of their allocated time has already been wasted, she stomps over to the bottle of champagne she’d been saving for this night together and downs a couple of glasses in quick succession.  
  
1930; still no Chakotay. Kathryn slumps onto a love-seat and stares through the holographic window, chin pillowed in her hands.  
  
_Am I addicted to him?_ she wonders fretfully. _Is this exactly the situation I’ve been trying to avoid?_  
  
=/\=  
  
He rushes through the holodeck doors at 1955, face taut with tension and fatigue. “Kathryn,” he sighs. “I’m so sorry. Ensign Gallagher and Crewman Anderson finally came to blows over Crewman Grimes. I’ve been mopping up blood and hurt feelings for the past hour.”  
  
He drops onto the ottoman at her feet and scrubs his face with his hands, and it’s only when he realises that she hasn’t answered him that he looks at her properly.  
  
“Kathryn?”  
  
She’s facing away from him, still staring out of the window, and he takes rapid note of the tense lines of her shoulders, the clenched jaw, the half-empty champagne bottle beside her.  
  
“Hey,” he says quietly, warily, “are you all right?”  
  
She rouses herself, offers him a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Fine. How are Gallagher and Anderson?”  
  
“Patched up and embarrassed, just as they should be. Kathryn, what’s –”  
  
“I should check on them,” she cuts him off, uncurling from the love-seat.  
  
“ _Kathryn_.” He catches her arm. “It’s under control. Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”  
  
“I think we should call it a night, Chakotay.”  
  
She twitches her elbow away. It’s subtle and she softens it with a pat on his shoulder, but he’s not fooled.  
  
“Hey.” He grasps her wrist, gently. “Talk to me. And don’t tell me you’re fine.”  
  
The flare in her eyes as she faces him almost makes him take a backward step. “I _am_ fine. I’m just not in the mood.”  
  
His other hand lifts to her face, thumb brushing over her lips, and the involuntary catch of her breath makes a liar of her. Chakotay doesn’t miss it; his lips quirk. “I could help you with that.”  
  
She takes a half-step back and his hand drops. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”  
  
Chakotay studies her. “You’re not just talking about tonight, are you?”  
  
She presses her lips together.  
  
“I see.” He watches her, gaze wandering over her face, and she forces herself not to react until he nods. “All right, Kathryn. Good night.”  
  
And he’s walking away.  
  
“So that’s it?”  
  
The sound of her own voice – waspish with an edge of hurt – shocks her. Chakotay stops, not turning around.  
  
“You’re just walking away?” she finds herself saying. “No arguments, no pretty stories?”  
  
“What do you want from me, Kathryn?” He faces her, frustration hunching his shoulders. “This is your play, not mine. If this is what you need –”  
  
“You don’t have any idea what I need!”  
  
Her voice – sharp, impassioned – rings out, and they stare at each other.  
  
And then he’s right there, towering over her, and his hands are on her arms – not hurting, just holding – and she can’t move an inch.  
  
Doesn’t want to.  
  
She tells herself not to look at his mouth, but she finds her gaze straying there, and her tongue darts out to moisten her own lips. And it’s not as if he could miss it.  
  
“I think you’ll find,” he cracks out, “that I _do_ ,” and his mouth is on hers.  
  
_Not kissing_ , she thinks, suddenly delirious. _Taking. Devouring_.  
  
She moans, and he growls, and then he’s hauling her into his arms, one hand spread low on her back, one cradling her head, sucking and licking and nipping at her lips, her jaw, her throat. She doesn’t know if she wants to melt or shove him away or throw him to the ground and have her way with him. Her hands curl into his hair, nails scratching his scalp, and he walks her backwards, stumbling, until her back slams against a wall and he’s gripping her ass in both hands, lifting her off her toes and grinding into her.  
  
“This what you need?” he growls into her collarbone and she moans and pushes her hips into his.  
  
“Take it off,” she gasps, shoving at his uniform, and he lowers her feet to the floor and rips off the jacket, separates from her for a moment to yank the turtleneck over his head. She takes advantage of her sudden freedom to tug off her own T-shirt and shimmy out of her skirt. Then his arms are around her again, hands stroking bare skin, and she shudders and presses herself as close to him as she can get. He latches his mouth over her nipple. She jerks against him, what he’s doing with his tongue and his teeth sending hot spears of pleasure directly to her clit, which she’s rubbing shamelessly against his thigh as his hand drifts over her hip, hooking under her panties, dragging them down –  
  
And then he stops.  
  
She blinks at him, breathing hard.  
  
“Are you done playing?” he demands. “Because I can walk out, right now, if that’s what you want.”  
  
Kathryn pauses for half a second. Then she reaches up and grabs a handful of his hair, dragging his face back down to hers. “Don’t you dare,” she hisses, and bites his lower lip, slipping her tongue into his mouth.  
  
He reacts by hissing and shoving himself hard against her and she feels the solid length of his erection against her belly and wonders if he really could have walked away, as he’d said. Then he’s yanking off her panties and fumbling with the opening to his pants, and she winds her legs around his hips as he thrusts inside her, and she stops wondering about anything other than how hard and how many times he’s going to make her come.  
  
She’s still panting and shaking when he finally lowers her legs to the floor. She rests her forehead against his throat and tries to get her breath back.  
  
“That what you needed, Kathryn?” he asks, and there’s still an edge to his voice, some kind of emotion she doesn’t want to define.  
  
She nods, feeling him shiver as her lips drag across his skin.  
  
“Want more?” his fingers play, feather-light, across the underside of her breast.  
  
She wraps her arms around his back and sinks her teeth into his collarbone as if saying the words is too much of an admission. His cock, softened and sticky, twitches against her belly.  
  
“I’ll take that as a yes.”  
  
=/\=  
  
Kathryn’s hands are bound, stretched above her head and tied to – something, she doesn’t know what, other than that it’s sturdy enough to bear her weight. She’s naked, kneeling, thighs apart. All she knows of the room she’s in is that it’s silent aside from the soft footfalls of the man who comes directly up behind her. The cool brush of silk tickles her eyelids as he ties on the blindfold.  
  
She inhales, and begins to quiver.  
  
“Nervous, Kathryn?” his voice is low, his lips brushing her ear.  
  
“No.”  
  
He laughs, softly. “Liar. I can see you trembling.”  
  
“What are you going to do to me?”  
  
“Well, that depends on you.”  
  
His answer comes from a different direction – he’s standing in front of her now – and her chin jerks; she hadn’t heard him move. “What do you mean?”  
  
“I mean,” she hears the quiet swish of fabric as he moves closer, stroking one finger down the line of her jaw, “it depends on how well you follow instructions.”  
  
“Such as?” Her voice did _not_ just shake.  
  
“Open your mouth.”  
  
It’s not as though it shocks her – on the contrary, she’s reassured by it. This – this is something she expects, and something she does well. She opens her mouth, craning forward, and is rewarded by the push of his cock past her lips. He tastes of her. He’s not quite hard, but as she runs her tongue down the underside and pulls back to swirl it around the head, he stiffens rapidly. His hands tangle in her hair as she teases him.  
  
“Suck,” he orders, and she doesn’t pause, just sinks down onto him, her throat opening to take him all in. She longs to touch him; she tries to put her hands on him but her bonds hold them firm and she whimpers. The vibrations curl around his cock. Chakotay tightens his hands in her hair and she sucks harder, deeper, _more_. He thrusts into her mouth, gently at first, but as she hums around him and arches her neck to take him further into her throat, his hips move more jerkily, hands twisting in her hair –  
  
“Stop,” he says hoarsely, pulling back from her, and she almost whines at the loss of contact.  
  
She feels him reach upward, releasing her bonds from whatever he’s tied them to.  
  
“Hands on the floor.”  
  
With her wrists still tied together it’s not easy to balance. She leans on her elbows, feels the arch in her back.  
  
“Perfect,” he murmurs, circling behind her, one hand on the globe of her ass, thumb rubbing between the cheeks. “Do you know where we are, Kathryn?”  
  
She stills, listening, taking in the holographic scents. Sawdust and whiskey and old wood.  
  
“Sandrine’s,” she realises, then, “Chakotay, this is a public program. And we must be close to the end of my holodeck time –”  
  
“Relax.” He strokes her backside in a manner that’s more arousing than soothing. “This is my own copy, and it’s security-locked. And I have the holodeck until 2200. We won’t be interrupted.”  
  
“Oh…” she shivers as his fingers dip and circle.  
  
“Kathryn?”  
  
“Um. Yes.”  
  
“Have you ever been with a woman?”  
  
Her jaw drops. “What?”  
  
He doesn’t answer, just gives her time.  
  
“I –” she swallows hard. “I kissed my roommate at the Academy a couple of times. Drunken nights out.”  
  
“That’s all?”  
  
“On Latavan…” she shudders as his fingers slide into her, “when Savia took me to the pools, she, _oh don’t stop_ , she touched me. And –”  
  
“And?” his fingers withdraw and she whimpers, pushing her hips back.  
  
“There was another woman touching me as well. But they stopped.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“I asked them to.”  
  
His palm cups her lightly. “Because you didn’t want it?”  
  
“Oh, I wanted it,” she hisses through her teeth as he circles her clit with his forefinger, “but I didn’t think I was allowed to have it.”  
  
“You’re allowed to have it now, Kathryn. If that’s what you want.”  
  
She stills. “What do you mean?”  
  
Fingertips circle her left nipple and she gasps. Then a mouth closes over her other breast.  
  
“Chakotay,” she groans.  
  
“Do you want it?”  
  
His voice comes not from under her but behind her, and her eyes snap open behind the blindfold. “What -?”  
  
The mouth that had been teasing her breast latches onto her neck and she feels the swish of long hair against her skin.  
  
“Do you want her, Kathryn?”  
  
“God –” her head drops forward. “ _Yes_. But –”  
  
“But?”  
  
“I want you, too.”  
  
“Oh, you have me,” she feels him lean in and lick a meandering line from her tailbone halfway up the length of her spine, “but I want to watch you with her first.”  
  
She’s trembling with the effort of not dissolving into the hands and mouths on her body.  
  
“Are you up for that, Kathryn?”  
  
“Yes,” she gasps.  
  
“Turn over.”  
  
She cants sideways, almost falling over in her haste to obey. The hands and mouths slide away and she whimpers at the loss of contact. Her bound hands are stretched above her head, back arching against the cool wood floor. She feels gentle hands on her thighs, easing them apart. She spreads them willingly.  
  
“Please,” falls from her lips, and then there’s a hot mouth on her belly, hands on her inner thighs. Small, slender hands, with slim fingers that dip and trace and tease. Lips press lightly to her hipbone.  
  
“What do you want?” asks a soft feminine voice.  
  
“Anything,” Kathryn hears herself saying. “Everything.”  
  
The fingers slide gently inside her, the lips suck lightly at her swollen clit, and she groans.  
  
“Okay?” the soft-voiced hologram asks. Her tongue flicks out and Kathryn twitches.  
  
“Yes. More.”  
  
“Demanding,” the woman says silkily, and applies her tongue and fingers more diligently to their task.  
  
Kathryn gasps and arches and moans as the tongue laps at her and the fingers curl inside her, and when the unseen woman brings her over the edge she says “yes” and “God” and “Chakotay”. She’s still writhing under the hologram’s touch when Chakotay leans in and speaks next to her ear.  
  
“Do you want to taste her?”  
  
She nods, and Chakotay releases her hands, and then the woman is sliding up her body and she feels warm thighs on either side of her blindfolded face and she lifts her head, straining to lick into the wet fragrant cunt above her as her hands settle onto the woman’s hips. She tastes musky and strong and she melts on her tongue, and Kathryn, whose previous experiences with holosex have been hit-and-miss in terms of realism, wonders if this is how Savia would have tasted.  
  
She licks, experimentally, and the woman shivers above her, emboldening her to press her tongue into all that liquid heat and coax forward more moans and sighs, and she doesn’t even care that they’re programmed. It feels real, and if the firm clasp of Chakotay’s hand on her waist is any indication, it looks real, and right now that’s good enough for her.  
  
The woman shakes and groans and Kathryn licks salty-sweet moisture from her pussy and feels the hologram relax, and Chakotay’s voice is roughened when he says, “Computer, delete character.” The soft thighs brushing Kathryn’s face vanish and she sighs, her hand seeking blindly for him.  
  
He leans in, speaking low in her ear. “Enjoy that?”  
  
She nods, licking her lips clean of the woman’s flavour.  
  
Chakotay trails a finger from the hollow of her throat, along the centre of her sternum to her navel, and she holds her breath, but he stops there. “Want more?” he suggests, having noted the upward tilt of her hips.  
  
“I want you.”  
  
The finger slides down further, dragging through her soaked pubic hair, circling her clit and making her shudder. It pauses at her entrance.  
  
“Where do you want me, Kathryn?” The finger dips. “Here?” Lower. “Or here?”  
  
“Fuck. God. _Anywhere_.”  
  
“Such a dirty mouth,” she hears him grin, and then he’s urging her onto her hands and knees again and moving behind her. He slides partway into her slit and pauses, hands on her hips. “This what you want?”  
  
“ _Yes_.” She bites her lip. “Please.”  
  
His hands move up to cup her breasts, nipples caught between fingers and thumbs as he slides a little further into her. “Do you remember when I asked you why you like to wear a corset? If it was partly because you enjoy restriction in your breathing?”  
  
She can barely concentrate on what he’s saying, but she nods.  
  
One hand slides up further, circling her throat as he thrusts shallowly into her. “You remember I told you there are other ways to achieve that?”  
  
“Yes,” she swallows.  
  
His hand closes more firmly around her throat as he pushes into her fully and she gasps, back arching. “Are you willing to give it a try?”  
  
“Yes…”  
  
“Okay,” he says, moving his other hand down to her clit, stroking gently as he slowly tightens the fingers around her neck. “If you want to stop, reach back and tap my hip. Understand?”  
  
“Okay,” she gasps, and raises her chin to press her throat more firmly into his hand.  
  
“Then hold on,” he murmurs, and his fingers close around her throat, compressing her airway as he starts to fuck her, slow and deep. She groans, breath rasping, lungs tightening, her hips moving to meet his thrusts. The coil begins to tighten low in her belly as he strokes her clit and pushes inside her and clamps his hand harder around her throat. A singing starts in her ears, her head grows light, he pinches her clitoris just as he changes his angle and hits that perfect spot inside her, and her entire body jerks and convulses as she climaxes so hard that stars burst behind her eyes.  
  
Chakotay loosens his hand and she sucks in a rush of air, hearing her own breath pounding in her lungs. Her body goes limp.  
  
“Okay?” he murmurs, still thrusting gently, slowly as she comes back to herself.  
  
“That –” she has to swallow, “that was …” she can’t even finish.  
  
“Intense?” She can hear the smile in his voice. He curls an arm around her waist, pulling her upright against his chest as he moves shallowly inside her, still lightly stroking her nub. Kathryn shivers, her head dropping back on his shoulder.  
  
“How did you know?”  
  
“I’ve been on the receiving end before.”  
  
“Oh.” She tilts her hips a little, allowing him a deeper angle. “A woman?” she asks, idly interested.  
  
“No.”  
  
“Oh…” Kathryn stills, unsure why the thought of Chakotay being taken by a man causes another rush of liquid from inside her.  
  
“You like that idea, huh?”  
  
Of course he noticed. She nods, lips parted.  
  
“Interesting,” he murmurs, nuzzling her ear. “But it’s only fair that I ask if you’d like to watch me with a man, since I just watched you with a woman. And thank you, by the way, for that visual.” He pushes deeper into her, the hand around her waist moving upward to tease her nipple. “So would you, Kathryn?”  
  
“What?” The things his fingers and mouth and cock are doing to her are making it difficult to follow the simplest conversation.  
  
“Would you like to watch me with a man?” he pinches her nipple. “Or do you prefer being watched?”  
  
“Either.” She licks her lips. “Both.”  
  
He nips at her throat then soothes it with his tongue, wringing a moan from her.  
  
“You remember I said this is my own copy of this program?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“I’ve made a few changes.”  
  
She feels his fingers at the knot behind her head, the whisper of silk as her blindfold comes off. She blinks, looks around.  
  
She’s held hard against his chest, naked, spread and nipples tight, in the centre of the room. And all around her are men. Men in roughspun cloaks and leather, men in tailored suits, men in Starfleet uniforms. Men, watching her with lust in their eyes.  
  
She swallows hard. “Please tell me those are all holograms.”  
  
He pauses. “What if they aren’t?”  
  
“Chakotay –” she stares harder at the men, particularly the ones in uniform. Was that Tom Paris’ blond head over there, and Ayala’s broad-shouldered frame? Was that O’Donnell, and Ashmore, and Chapman? She gulps.  
  
Chakotay curls his fingers around her breast and thrusts harder into her. “What if there are members of your crew watching you right now, Kathryn? Watching their captain like this – displayed for them, naked, with my cock inside you?”  
  
She can’t help the moan that escapes her or the grinding of her hips against him.  
  
“Don’t worry,” he whispers. “As much as I enjoy the fantasy of our crew watching me fuck you, I’d never do that to you. But it’s fun to pretend, isn’t it?”  
  
She looks closer and realises the man she thought was Paris bears only a passing resemblance to him, and the one who looks like Ayala isn’t as tall. Despite herself, she giggles in relief.  
  
And, perhaps, the tiniest flicker of disappointment.  
  
“Look at them,” Chakotay goes on. “Look at how many men are staring at your body right now, Kathryn.”  
  
The disappointment melts away as she obeys him, a shiver racing through her.  
  
“Do you want them to touch you?”  
  
She locks eyes with the hologram who resembles Ayala, and swallows hard. “Yes.”  
  
“You heard the lady.”  
  
The hologram steps forward, reaching out to stroke her breasts, and Kathryn moans. Then there’s another man’s hand on her hip, slipping downward to circle her clit with a finger, and another stepping forward and unfastening his pants. She parts her lips, then hesitates.  
  
“What do you want, Kathryn?” Chakotay’s lips are against her ear. “Do you want his cock in your mouth? Do you want them to fuck you?”

“Yes,” she gasps, “but first I want to watch them fuck _you_.”  
  
She sees the holograms’ attention move to the man behind her, inside her; feels Chakotay nip the curve of her neck. The Ayala lookalike takes his hand from her breast and rests it on Chakotay’s shoulder.  
  
“Is that what you want?” she thinks to ask.  
  
There’s a deeper tone in his voice. “Yes.”  
  
She tips forward, feeling him pull out from her, turning to recline on her elbows as the Ayala hologram kneels beside him.  He reaches for Chakotay, weaving a hand into his hair, and Kathryn’s breath catches as they kiss.  
  
“Undress him,” she suggests, and Chakotay reaches for the other man’s jacket. By the time the hologram is bare to the waist, they’re kissing in earnest, tongues sliding, teeth grazing lips, male hands clutching hard at taut biceps. She bites her lip, unable to tear her widened eyes from the sight.  
  
When the hologram shoves his pants down over his hips she can’t help herself. She reaches out to touch him, touch them both. Chakotay hisses softly as her fingers encircle him, and she leans forward to take him in her mouth.  
  
“If you do that, I won’t last long,” he mutters, and she pulls away enough to murmur back, “Then he’d better get started.”  
  
“Computer, one bottle of lubricant,” Chakotay orders.  
  
The bottle appears on the floor beside Kathryn and she takes the opportunity to smooth the gel over the hologram’s penis. She flicks her gaze to Chakotay. “Turn around.”  
  
She takes a moment to admire his ass before coating her fingers in the lubricant. “I haven’t done this before,” she admits.  
  
“Just go slow,” he tells her, “but don’t be afraid.”  
  
She trails a finger from his tailbone downward, presses gently at his anus and feels him shiver. The hologram moves in close and rests a hand on Chakotay’s hip.  
  
Kathryn works a fingertip inside him.  “Okay?”  
  
“Yes.” His voice is rough and she feels him press backward slightly, so she pushes in further, gradually, until gooseflesh prickles his skin and he lets out a shuddering sigh.  
  
“More?”  
  
He nods, so she adds a second finger, and then a third, sliding them slowly, easily, in and out of him until he tells her thickly, “Ready.”  
  
She shuffles back, allowing the hologram to move in close, and watches as the glistening cocks pushes smoothly in and further in, and Chakotay groans, the muscles bunching in his shoulders.  
  
“Is it good?” she whispers, remembering how it felt to have Chakotay buried inside her like that.  
  
“Uh. Yeah.”  
  
The hologram pulls out and pushes back in, and Chakotay growls, and as they begin to move together faster, harder, Kathryn’s hands drift over her own body, palming her nipples, plucking at her clitoris. She can hear the slap of flesh on flesh and the men’s harsh breathing, see the reddened marks on Chakotay’s hips where the hologram holds him, the sheen of sweat on his skin. The pace quickens and she hears Chakotay moan, and then the hologram grunts and shudders and slumps over his back.  
  
“God,” she says raggedly, on the verge of climax herself.  
  
Chakotay shucks the other man away and rises on his knees, and her eyes widen.  
  
“You didn’t come.”  
  
“I wanted to wait for you.”  
  
She stares at him. “Tell me what you want me to do for you.”  
  
“I want to fuck you like he just fucked me.” He reaches for her, pulls her against his body. “And I want them –” he tilts his head at the other, waiting, men, “– to fuck you, too.”  
  
Kathryn’s eyes glaze over. “You choose them, then,” she manages to choke out. “Which ones you want to fuck me.”  
  
The shiver that passes through him at her words almost sends her over the edge. He yanks her around, turning her back to his chest, an arm held hard around her waist. “You,” he orders the Paris lookalike, “and you,” to the one that vaguely resembles Ashmore.  
  
They step forward, stripping off their uniforms, and Chakotay urges her onto all fours, reaching for the bottle of lubricant. “I chose them,” he murmurs against her ear as his fingers slide into her ass, “so you choose where you want them.”  
  
Her head feels so light, her skin so hot that she can barely breathe. As she feels the thick press of his cock inside her, she looks up at the blond man. “You first,” she gasps.  
  
Chakotay eases them backward, holding her close as the hologram kneels between their legs. She watches as he pumps a hand around his cock once, twice, then positions himself at her pussy. “Now?” he asks.  
  
“Now,” she all but groans, and he pushes inside her and she whines and digs her nails into his back at the feeling. She’s never been so full, so helpless, so mindlessly focused on her physical being. Chakotay moves his hips under her as the Paris hologram grinds his, and she almost convulses from the stimulation.  
  
“You,” she gasps at the dark-skinned hologram standing by them, “in my mouth. Now.”  
  
He lowers himself, knees beside her head, and she opens her mouth to take him in.  
  
“ _Fuck_ , Kathryn,” Chakotay mutters hoarsely, watching as she swallows the thick dark cock, “you’ve got me hanging by a thread here…”  
  
She mumbles something incomprehensible around the penis in her mouth and the hologram jerks, thrusting into her throat.  
  
“Easy,” Chakotay warns him, but Kathryn reaches up to grab the hologram’s hips, holding him in place, and grinds her pelvis onto the two cocks inside her. She’s shuddering, on the verge, and Chakotay senses it, because the next thing she feels is his hand pushing between her body and the blond man’s to stroke her clit, and it only takes two and a half seconds of that for her to convulse, legs jerking, back arching, bringing Chakotay over the edge with her and the two other men immediately following.  
  
The Ashmore hologram pulls out of her throat, leaving a trail of holographic semen over her mouth and chin. The Paris lookalike sits back on his heels and she feels his seed trickle out of her. And then Chakotay helps her off him, gently, and she slumps to the floor, limp and panting.  
  
“Computer, deactivate holographic characters,” he says hoarsely, and then he’s turning her, gathering her into his arms. He lays his cheek against the top of her head and she lets herself curl bonelessly into his chest, listening to his heart beat and feeling the security of his arms holding her close.  
  
He feels safe. He feels right.  
  
An emotion she refuses to name wells up inside her and she resolutely shoves it away. But it makes her shift nervously in his arms, and sensing her discomfort, he eases up on his hold. Kathryn uncurls her arms and legs and Chakotay gets to his feet, holding a hand out to help her up.  
  
He keeps hold of her hand as she stands. “Okay?” he asks softly, his other palm coming up to cup her cheek.  
  
She feels suddenly more naked, more exposed, than she had in a roomful of men with three of them buried inside her. “Of course,” she says, maybe a little too brightly. She squeezes his hand and lets go, stepping away to gather her clothing. “Computer, end program,” she calls, and Sandrine’s flickers into nothingness, leaving her standing on a hologrid with her naked first officer, clutching a bundle of clothes in her arms.  
  
“Kathryn,” he says, watching her, “we still have half an hour left.”  
  
“Oh.” She laughs, and it sounds nervous even to her. “I don’t think I could manage another round.”  
  
Chakotay snags his uniform pants from the floor and pulls them on, eyes still on her as she shoves her feet into her skirt and yanks the T-shirt over her head.  
  
“That’s not what I was suggesting,” he says. “Computer, activate program Chakotay Gamma 12.”  
  
A beachside café materialises; small wooden tables, a cool breeze, cheerful servers of a variety of species. It could be anywhere – California, southern France, Risa. Chakotay gestures to a table. “Sit with me?”  
  
“I have work to do –”  
  
“Please.”  
  
Reluctantly, she takes the seat he offers. A waitress appears with a carafe of water and Kathryn pours a glass, drinking it gratefully.  
  
Chakotay watches her, elbows resting on the table.  
  
“So what were you suggesting?” she asks.  
  
“I wanted to talk to you. Give you the chance to tell me why you were having second thoughts when I showed up tonight.”  
  
Her fingers tighten on the glass. “Oh. That.”  
  
Chakotay waits.  
  
“I was angry with you,” she squirms. “For being late. And I realise how ridiculous that was, because you were doing your duty. And it made me wonder –” she stops.  
  
“It made you wonder what?”  
  
Kathryn selects her words carefully. “It made me wonder if this wasn’t such a good idea. Us. Having this kind of relationsh- uh, arrangement.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
She taps her nails on the glass, avoiding his eye.  
  
Chakotay reaches over and stills her with a hand on her wrist. “Talk to me, Kathryn. Why would this be a bad idea?”  
  
“Because of the impact on us. Professionally,” she hastens to add.  
  
“Professionally,” he repeats, inflectionless.  
  
“Yes. I mean, I can’t go getting angry with you for doing your job. It’s … unprofessional.”  
  
“I see.”  
  
“And leading this crew is – has to be – more important than anything else. I need to be clear-minded and focused, Chakotay.”  
  
“And you think our arrangement is interfering with that?”  
  
“Yes. No.” She bites her lip, then stops when she realises how _unprofessional_ it makes her look, and straightens in her seat. Annoyance makes her snappish. “Look, I approached you about this because Tuvok advised me that an outlet for my, uh, sexual needs might _help_ my focus, not hinder it. And I’m not so sure that’s actually the case.”  
  
“Is this really about our professional relationship, or our personal one?”  
  
He asks it so mildly that she almost misses the significance.  
  
Almost.  
  
“I can’t afford to be distracted by this,” she bites. “I can’t be sitting on the bridge or in my ready room supposedly _working_ and daydreaming about what’s under your uniform like some sex-crazed cadet –” She stops as a grin blossoms across his face. “ _What_?” she demands.  
  
“Welcome to my life, Kathryn,” he chuckles. “Or at least, the way it’s been since I first set foot on this ship.”  
  
She folds her arms and glares.  
  
“I asked you this before, but I’ll ask it again,” he goes on. “Has my attraction to you caused any problems – past or present – in the successful running of this ship? Have I failed in my duty in any way attributable to my feeli-" he catches himself, “my desire for you?”  
  
“No.”  
  
She watches his eyes slide away and then return, his shoulders squaring, and knows he’s about to move onto a question she’s not particularly going to like.  
  
“And before we consummated this – _arrangement_ ,” he continues carefully, “did your attraction to me ever stop you from putting this ship and crew first?”  
  
Her mouth drops open. “A little full of ourselves, aren’t we, Commander?”  
  
Chakotay gives her an even look. “Are you really going to try and tell me you never thought about this – us, together – before Tuvok gave you his approval?”  
  
Kathryn presses her lips together. “No,” she spits finally. “And no. It didn’t stop me from doing my job.”  
  
“Then why would it do so now?”  
  
“Because it was different before!” she bursts out. “I didn’t _know_ what you’d be like. I didn’t _know_ how you’d make me fe-"  
  
She stands abruptly, almost knocking the chair over in her haste.  
  
“I have to go. Computer, arch.”  
  
~That command is unrecognised.~  
  
She clenches her fists at her sides. “Computer, give me the goddamned exit!”  
  
~Unable to comply.~  
  
“Chakotay, if this is your idea of a joke, you’d better release the command lockouts. Right. _Now_.”  
  
He stands slowly, frowning. “I didn’t do this, Kathryn. Computer, exit.”  
  
A pair of grey doors appears, and then disappears.  
  
“Computer,” Chakotay says slowly, “run a diagnostic on Holodeck Two. Identify any faults with the voice command processors or imaging sensors.”  
  
~Working.~  
  
Kathryn activates her commbadge. “Janeway to the bridge.”  
  
~Tuvok here, Captain.~  
  
“Tuvok, I’m in Holodeck Two. There seems to be a problem with the holodeck controls. I can’t access the exit.”  
  
~Understood. I’ll notify Engineering and send a security team to release you. Tuvok out.~  
  
Kathryn slumps against the wall, glaring at nothing. “Wonderful.”  
  
~Diagnostic complete,~ chirps the computer. ~Voice command processors and imaging sensors are working correctly.~  
  
“Janeway to Engineering,” she snaps into her commbadge.  
  
~Torres here.~ B’Elanna doesn’t bother hiding the frustration in her voice. ~Captain, there’s some kind of problem with the power relays to both holodecks. I’ve got a team on it but I can’t identify the cause yet.~  
  
“Keep me posted, B’Elanna. Janeway out.”  
  
“Well,” Chakotay says easily, “looks like we have time to talk some more.”  
  
=/\=  
  
Kathryn stomps through the doors to her quarters and heads straight for her replicator. “Coffee. Black,” she snarls at it, and, cowed, it immediately presents her with her favoured order, exactly as she likes it. She’s barely taken her first sip when her door chimes.  
  
“Not now,” she mutters, then closes her eyes to tamp down her anger. “Come.”  
  
“Captain,” Tuvok says as he steps into the room, “I have Lieutenant Torres’ report on the holodeck malfunction –”  
  
He stops, and she watches his nostrils flare and realises to her horror that he’s picking up the scent of sex. She grabs her bathrobe from the chair she’d left it on that morning, belting it tightly. “Thanks. You can put it on the table.”  
  
Tuvok obeys, then straightens, folding his hands behind his back. “Are you all right, Captain?”  
  
“Fine.”  
  
“You appear agitated.”  
  
“I just spent half an hour locked in the damned holodeck and I have a lot of work to catch up on, so if that’s all, Lieutenant…?”  
  
Instead of following her rather heavy-handed hint, Tuvok takes a measured step closer. “If I might have a moment of your time, Captain?”  
  
She rubs her forehead briefly. “All right, Tuvok. What can I do for you?”  
  
“It appears you have decided to embark on a sexual relationship with Commander Chakotay,” he answers, and she almost chokes on her coffee.  
  
“Nothing like Vulcan directness,” she mutters, and waves him to a chair. “You might as well sit down. I have a feeling I’m going to need to.”  
  
Tuvok settles in the chair and regards her impassively as she sits on the couch.  
  
“I suppose I should ask how you figured it out. Apart from –” she gestures vaguely at her unshowered body and tries not to blush.  
  
One Vulcan eyebrow twitches. “The security records show that you have logged a number of hours in the holodeck over the past several evenings. That in itself is unusual, but hardly cause for further investigation. However, I have also noted that your coffee consumption has decreased and that, aside from this evening, you appear less tense.”  
  
“Not exactly damning evidence. Perhaps I’ve just found a good yoga program.”  
  
“True. I have, however, also observed that the commander shares your general air of relaxation. One might almost describe his general disposition as that of the cat that ate the cream.”  
  
A giggle bursts out of her before Kathryn can smother it. “ _Got_ the cream, Tuvok. Or ate the canary. And still – not a smoking gun.”  
  
“Smoking gun?” Tuvok’s eyebrows rise further.  
  
“Never mind. I’m sure you didn’t come here for a lesson in Standard idioms.”  
  
“Indeed. I could list all the remaining evidence which supports my supposition – the frequency with which your commbadge signal and bio-signs have registered in close proximity to the commander’s, for example – but suffice it to say that I am confident in my conclusions.”  
  
Kathryn’s smile disappears. “You’ve been spying on us?”  
  
Tuvok looks affronted.  
  
“All right. Of course you haven’t. But if this information is readily available in the security logs…”  
  
“The trace logs have always been restricted to my eyes only, and I have traditionally reviewed them as a matter of course. Should your relationship with the commander come to the attention of crew members other than myself, it will not be through these logs.”  
  
“I see.” Kathryn chews the corner of her lip. “So what is it you want to ask me?”  
  
“I want to offer my counsel, should you need it.”  
  
“Your counsel?” An image of Tuvok, dressed in pyjamas, eating ice cream and sitting cross-legged on her dorm bunk at the Academy, almost causes Kathryn to burst out laughing. “Somehow I never pictured you gossiping about boys or giving me a shoulder to cry on, Tuvok.”  
  
Tuvok ignores her and sails smoothly on. “As I mentioned, becoming sexually active over the past few days seems to have had a positive effect on your demeanour. However, this evening you appear ill at ease. May I enquire as to why?”  
  
“I’m concerned by these random malfunctions,” she offers evasively.  
  
“As am I. However, I have known you for a long time, Captain, and your behavioural patterns and thought processes are familiar to me. I would venture to suggest that there is something else on your mind.”  
  
“Are you calling me predictable, Tuvok?”  
  
“No, Captain. I am calling you my friend, and offering you the benefit of my friendship in return.”  
  
Kathryn takes a long swallow of her coffee to hide the sharp prickling of tears at the back of her throat. “It’s … not easy to talk about.”  
  
“If I may?”  
  
She nods warily, and Tuvok leans forward, elbows on knees and fingers steepled.  
  
“During our previous discussion about your need for physical companionship, you referred to a potential relationship with Commander Chakotay not as an understanding intended to provide mutually beneficial sexual contact but as a _love affair_. You expressed concerns about your ability to command _Voyager_ should you develop an emotional attachment to the commander. Am I to understand that this is still your concern?”  
  
She tightens her mouth. “One of them.”  
  
“And have you developed an emotional attachment?”  
  
“No,” she snaps immediately.  
  
Tuvok’s eyebrow raises. Again. Suddenly furious, she sweeps to her feet.  
  
“Thank you, Lieutenant, for the recap of our earlier discussion on this topic, but from now on, this subject is closed.” She waves at the door. “Good night.”  
  
“I am sorry if I’ve offended you, Captain.” Tuvok gets to his feet. “Good night.”  
  
Sighing, Kathryn grabs the PADD Tuvok left for her and slumps back onto the couch, immersing herself in B’Elanna’s report and steadfastly not thinking about anything Tuvok or Chakotay have had to say to her tonight.


	5. Malfunctions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter occurs just after the events of _Worst Case Scenario_. It’s also a lot less perverted than the previous chapters, but I hope it will still satisfy. 
> 
> And thank you, everyone, for your wonderful comments and reviews, and for your patience. :)

_Day 13, 2015 hours, Captain’s quarters_  
  
  
By the time they’ve finished repairing the holodeck after Seska’s takeover of Tuvok’s security training program, Kathryn has all but forgotten about the infuriatingly random malfunctions. And she certainly hasn’t had time to be preoccupied with her confusion over her _arrangement_ with Chakotay.  
  
They’ve barely spoken over the past few days – at least not about anything unrelated to ship’s business – a state of affairs for which she finds herself unbecomingly thankful. That admission, in itself, annoys her. She’s never thought of herself as a coward.  
  
Entering her quarters after a straight seventeen hours on her feet, she bypasses her usual stop at the replicator – for once, even the Doctor’s vocal exasperation at her caffeine intake hasn’t increased her desire for the substance – and drops onto the couch, settling her feet on the coffee table with a sigh.  
  
“Computer, play music selection Janeway Theta Two.” She closes her eyes in anticipation of the peaceful strains of Chopin –  
  
– and promptly leaps upright as Klingon opera fills the room at top volume.  
  
“Computer, stop playback!”  
  
The echoes of Lukar of Qo’noS ring in Kathryn’s ears, loud as the silence. “Janeway to Torres.”  
  
~Yes, Captain?~ B’Elanna sounds breathless.  
  
“B’Elanna,” she says through gritted teeth, “there’s something wrong with the computer command processors.”  
  
~What’s happened?~ B’Elanna’s tone is all sharp efficiency now.  
  
Kathryn takes a moment to silently apologise to her chief engineer for – probably – having interrupted a close, personal reunion with her boyfriend, so recently emancipated from near-death by holodeck. “Oh, nothing serious. Just a little quibble over the computer’s choice of music selection.”  
  
~Captain?~  
  
“Just send someone to investigate it, would you?”  
  
~On my way. Torres out.~  
  
“I didn’t mean –” Kathryn sighs as the comm goes dead, “that it had to be _you_.”  
  
B’Elanna appears, still slightly flushed, at her door minutes later. “What happened?” she asks.  
  
“I ordered the computer to play Chopin and it decided to treat me to a rendition of _Kahless the Unforgettable_.”  
  
“Oh.” B’Elanna cringes. “Right. I’ll take a look.”  
  
She opens her tricorder and moves over to the panel set into the bulkhead. “There’s definitely something interfering with the command processors. And I’m detecting a power spike, just like with the other malfunctions.” She shuts the tricorder. “Permission to go to Engineering?”  
  
Kathryn has already disappeared into her bedroom, donning a fresh uniform and wishing she had time for a sonic shower. “Hold on a moment, B’Elanna. I’m coming with you.”  
  
“I can handle it, Captain,” B’Elanna protests. “You need rest.”  
  
“I’ve got a theory,” Kathryn answers grimly as she emerges from her bedroom. “Come on.”   
  
=/\=  
  
 _2130 hours, Engineering_  
  
  
“Run the scan again. Level Three this time.”  
  
B’Elanna shoots her a frustrated glance, but reactivates the sequence that will scan the computer processors for technological interference.  
  
“Nothing,” she reports moments later.  
  
Kathryn forces herself not to sigh. “All right. We’ve ruled out the possibility of a virus in the processors.”  
  
“Why are you so convinced this was all caused by a virus?”  
  
“Seska,” Kathryn answers abruptly. “If the past couple of days have taught us anything, it’s that she was ingenious and extremely sneaky. If she managed to find and interfere with a security program _Tuvok_ thought he’d deleted, who knows what else she was capable of? What knows what other nasty little time-bombs she might have left for us?” She stands, rubbing her aching temples. “ _Think_ , B’Elanna. When did these problems begin?”  
  
“A bit under two weeks ago,” B’Elanna answers. “Right after we left Latavan.”  
  
“Latavan,” Kathryn repeats, mouth twisting. “Well, haven’t _they_ managed to cause a lot of trouble?”  
  
“Captain?”  
  
“Never mind.” She waves a hand, then stops mid-motion, eyes widening. “Lieutenant, when did you start using the pergium we obtained from the Latavine?”  
  
“Stardate 50933,” B’Elanna answers. “We had to purify it first, so it took a couple of days before we could pump it into the power relays.”  
  
“Purify it,” Kathryn repeats.  
  
“Yes. I modified one of the spare dilithium chambers in Cargo Bay One to act as a purification processor.”  
  
“Had you ever used that chamber before?”  
  
“No,” B’Elanna answers, staring at her, and Kathryn can almost see the moment realisation strikes. “But I do remember asking Seska to inventory Cargo Bay One shortly before she left the ship. She reported that she’d stored the dilithium chambers in a more secure container in the cargo bay to prevent accidental damage.”  
  
“Retrieve that chamber,” Kathryn orders, mouth firming. “I suspect our Cardassian troublemaker might have taken the opportunity to conduct a little extra sabotage.”  
  
“Ashmore,” B’Elanna calls.  
  
The dark-skinned ensign appears at her side. Kathryn looks at him, remembers the profane acts she performed with the hologram who resembled him, and has to force herself not to flush.  
  
“Go up to Cargo Bay One and bring me all the spare dilithium chambers from storage, including the one we used to refine the pergium. Get Boylan and Dell to help you.”  
  
“Aye, Chief.”  
  
Kathryn turns back to the console as Ashmore walks away. “Janeway to Tuvok.”  
  
~Yes, Captain?~  
  
“I need you in Engineering, Lieutenant.”  
  
~On my way.~  
  
=/\=  
  
It’s well past 0400 by the time Kathryn, Tuvok and B’Elanna are satisfied that they’ve detected and eradicated all signs of Seska’s virus. B’Elanna has sent her teams to purge every affected system – which is almost all of them – and Kathryn orders Tuvok to undertake a thorough scan of all the computer pathways just in case there are any other Cardassian surprises lying in wait.  
  
Tuvok accompanies her back to the bridge. In the turbolift, she leans against the wall, allowing her eyes to close, hoping for a brief moment to recharge.  
  
“Captain.”  
  
Her eyes open.  
  
Tuvok is watching her with one eyebrow raised. “By my calculations, you have been on duty for almost twenty-four hours. Might I suggest you return to your quarters?”  
  
“It’s a nice idea, Tuvok, but I have reports to file. And I need to be certain we’ve uncovered all of Seska’s meddling.”  
  
“Reports can wait until morning,” he replies. “And I will inform you immediately should my investigation uncover any further sabotage.”  
  
She glares at him. Then, ~Chakotay to Captain Janeway.~  
  
“Yes, Commander?”  
  
~Captain, I’ve been reliably informed that you’re on your way to the bridge.~  
  
“That’s right.”  
  
~I can’t give you orders, Captain, but I’d strongly suggest you go to bed instead. I can handle things up here.~  
  
“Are you two in on this together?” she demands, fixing Tuvok with a stare as dangerous as her tone of voice.  
  
~If you’re referring to Tuvok, then no, it was B’Elanna who told me you’d been in Engineering with her for the past six hours. Please get some rest, Captain. For all our sakes.~  
  
She can’t help the slight twitch of her mouth at his gently amused tone. “Fine. I know when I’m outnumbered. Janeway out. Deck Three,” she adds, and the computer chirrups, coming to a stop at her deck.  
  
“Captain,” Tuvok calls just as she’s stepping out of the ‘lift.  
  
“Yes?” she sighs impatiently.  
  
“I have noted that your coffee consumption has increased substantially over the past several days, and that you are exhibiting signs of hypertension. If I may be so bold, I would strongly suggest you reinstate your previous regimen in order to maintain your mental and physical health.” He pauses. “I am certain that the commander would be willing to assist you.”  
  
She turns on him abruptly. “Didn’t I tell you this subject was closed?”  
  
“You did.” Tuvok inclines his head. “Nonetheless, my duties as security officer include ensuring your continued wellbeing. I am simply fulfilling that function. And, as your friend, I am concerned for you.”  
  
“I see.” Kathryn pinches the bridge of her nose. “I appreciate your concern, Tuvok. And,” she forces herself to grit out, “I’ll take it under advisement. Good _night_.”  
  
Despite her exhaustion, she’s so riled up at being outmanoeuvred by her officers and subjected to Tuvok’s excruciating brand of concern that even after a long hot-water shower and a mug of hot chocolate, she finds herself tossing and turning in bed. The tension headache seems to be worsening, sending shooting pains into her neck and shoulders, and for a brief moment she even considers going to Sickbay. Shaking off that terrible thought, she lies back and forces her breathing to slow and her mind to drift.  
  
 _I’d kill for a massage right about now_ , she thinks, and instantly a sense-memory of Chakotay’s warm hands kneading her shoulders makes her sigh. She reaches up to prod at her neck, trying to release the tension, but her slender fingers are insufficient to the task. Exhaling, she allows her hand to drift over her chest. As her fingertips brush over her nipple she gasps, a wave of heat prickling through her.  
  
 _Forget the massage_ , she reflects. _I’d kill for those hands just about anywhere on me._  
  
She lets her hands trail lower, over her stomach as she imagines his weight settling over her hips, imagines him propped on his elbows as he parts her legs and drops his head to rub his cheek against her naked inner thigh. Kathryn’s eyes close, her fingers sliding under the band of her panties, dipping into her gathering wetness. She circles her clitoris with the pad of her thumb, wishing it was his tongue, and pushes three fingers inside herself, curling them upward they way he does so skilfully. The angle is difficult, and her hand cramps, but as the pulse of her arousal increases, she perseveres.  
  
It takes time and constant shifting to ease the ache in her hand, but eventually she brings herself to orgasm and lies back panting for breath, her limbs losing their stiffness as she drops down through the first layers of fatigue. Her last thought before she sleeps is that, despite their never having made use of a bed, hers feels empty without him.  
  
=/\=  
  
 _Day 15, 1105 hours, Ready Room_  
  
  
“Enter.”  
  
Chakotay steps into the ready room, hair slightly tousled and face creased with weariness, and holds out a PADD. “Tuvok’s report. All scans have come up clear. If Seska’s left any more nasty little surprises, he can’t find any sign of them.”  
  
“Thank you.” She studies it quickly, then looks up at him. “You look like hell, Chakotay. When did you last get some sleep?”  
  
“Day before yesterday,” he shrugs. “You look slightly better rested than the last time I saw you.”  
  
“I caught a few hours’ sleep,” she agrees. “And thank you, by the way, for forcing my hand on that. I was ready to drop.”  
  
“You’re welcome.” He smiles and heads for the replicator. “Coffee?”  
  
“Oh, yes please. Help yourself as well.”  
  
She picks up the coffee he brings her with one hand, the other holding her PADD, and takes a reflective sip.  
  
“Lieutenant Torres’ report,” she tells Chakotay, indicating the PADD. “Apparently, Seska encoded the spare dilithium chambers with what B’Elanna calls a worm virus. When the pergium was refined in the modified chamber, the virus adhered itself to the pergium’s energy signature and lay dormant until the pergium was introduced into the ship’s energy matrix. It self-activated as it was disseminated throughout the ship’s systems.”  
  
Chakotay’s face darkens. “If Seska wasn’t already dead, I’d take pleasure in wringing her Cardassian neck right about now.”  
  
“It wasn’t your fault, Chakotay.”  
  
“ _She_ was my fault. I brought her on board.”  
  
But there’s no heat in his words – they’ve had this conversation before, after all – and she lays her hand lightly over his.  
  
Usually, at this point, they’d share a brief smile and get back to work. This time, unaccountably, her hand lingers, and he turns his palm upward to gently clasp her fingers.  
  
Kathryn stares down at their joined hands and doesn’t want to pull away.  
  
“Kathryn.”  
  
“Yes?” she asks, still looking at his big dark hand enclosing hers.  
  
“I want to see you tonight.”  
  
All the reasons she should decline march through her head like so many tin soldiers, but, “Tonight,” she finds herself saying. “Yes.”  
  
“1930 hours?”  
  
“Yes.” She bites her lip. “But not on the holodeck. I don’t have any time rations left, and besides, I’m a little nervous of it after the past few days.”  
  
“Dinner at my place,” he decides, and stands, letting his hand slip from hers. “I’d better get back to the bridge.”  
  
“Take the afternoon off,” she says impulsively. “If you don’t mind me saying, you could use a nap.”  
  
“All right.” He smiles at her and she tries to ignore the fluttering in her throat at that warm, dimpled grin. “Tonight, then.”  
  
“Tonight.”  
  
She turns back to frown at her computer, resisting the temptation to watch him leave.  
  
=/\=  
  
 _1940 hours, First Officer’s quarters_  
  
  
She’s late, and irritated at herself for it, and especially irritated at the reason for her lateness. _Seven changes of outfit_ , she rebukes herself darkly, _as if this was a date, for spirits’ sake_.  
  
And it wasn’t as though she had an expansive wardrobe to select from in any case. In the end, she’s forced herself to settle for a loose-fitting tank and casual trousers – ones he’s seen her in dozens of times – and hopes that the rather impressive bottle of wine she’s carrying will divert his attention from her appearance.  
  
 _Not that I want him to notice my appearance_ , she reminds herself sternly. _This is Chakotay_. She shifts her feet outside his quarters, trying to gather the equilibrium to request entry. _This is my first officer. My closest friend_.  
  
 _This is your lover_ , another inner voice points out.  
  
She refuses to think of him in that way – it’s uncomfortably intimate – and then rolls her eyes at herself. As if what they’ve been to each other, what they _are_ to each other, isn’t _intimate_.  
  
She squares her shoulders and presses the chime.  
  
“I was beginning to wonder if you were planning on standing out there all night,” Chakotay teases as he opens the door.  
  
Kathryn lifts her chin and sails past him. “Neelix is making pot roast tonight. Maybe I was just debating whether the mess hall was a better culinary choice.”  
  
He snorts. “You realise the meat in his pot roast is Talaxian otter?”  
  
“What?” She waggles the wine bottle. “I hear it goes well with a nice ’53 shiraz.”  
  
“Not as well as my mushroom risotto,” he promises, and ushers her to the table with a flourish.  
  
She watches him as he uncorks the wine, pours, moves around the tiny kitchenette stirring and tasting and ladling. She watches the play of muscle under his T-shirt, his long strides and deft movements, the way he seems so easy in his skin. Chin propped on her hand, she lets her mind drift, filling with pictures of the way he moves when they’re naked together, of his delighted, dimpled laugh when she says something he finds funny, of the intensity in his eyes when he tells her she’s beautiful.  
  
“Hungry?”  
  
She starts, elbow dropping off the edge of the table as he places a bowl of risotto in front of her. “Starved,” she manages, gulping her wine to hide the colour in her cheeks.  
  
He settles opposite her and holds up his glass. “To thwarting saboteurs.”  
  
“To less interesting times,” she agrees, smiling.  
  
His own smile fades and he searches her eyes. He puts his glass down and rests his arms on the table, and she knows immediately that he’s about to question her.  
  
And she knows he’s going to ask her the same questions she’s been so determinedly not asking herself, so she picks up her fork and says brightly, “This looks delicious,” and he eases back in his chair, taking his cue from her.  
  
 _He’s giving you what he thinks you need, just like always,_ that inner voice harps. _And how often do you give him what_ he _needs?_  
  
“Shut up,” she mutters.  
  
“I didn’t say anything.” Chakotay sends her a strange look. “You okay?”  
  
“Fine.”  
  
They eat in silence – a silence that stretches her nerves thin and coils the tension tightly in her neck and shoulders. When she puts down her fork he does the same.  
  
“Dessert?” he asks. “Or would you rather go straight to coffee?”  
  
“Actually… I think I’d rather have something stronger.”  
  
“All right.” He studies her for a moment. “There’s the rest of that bottle of Antarian cider. Or I have some Ktarian brandy.”  
  
“I’m kind of in a whiskey mood.”  
  
He raises an eyebrow. “I still have the Midleton you gave me for my birthday.”  
  
“Well, then,” she collects their plates and carries them to the replicator, “if you don’t mind sharing it with a friend, let’s crack her open, Commander.”  
  
“Who better to share it with?” He waves her to the couch and she curls up, watching him pour a generous couple of fingers into tumblers. He brings the bottle with him as he settles beside her. “What should we toast to this time?”  
  
She shrugs. “To friends?”  
  
“To friends,” he smiles.  
  
They sip, and she places her tumbler on the coffee table and reaches around to rub at her neck.  
  
“Sore?”  
  
“It’s nothing.” She pulls her hand away. “I’m fi-”  
  
“Fine. I know,” he rolls his eyes. “Come here.”  
  
Kathryn hesitates. _This is a bad idea_ , she tells herself. _You know what happens when he puts his hands on you. And that’s not what you came here for_.  
  
 _Liar_ , snorts her inner voice.  
  
“Kathryn?” Chakotay’s voice is gentle. “It’s just a neck rub. It doesn’t have to be anything more.”  
  
Irritated at the way he’s read her inner struggle, she rolls her shoulders impatiently and turns her back to him, shifting closer on the couch. “By all means, Commander.”  
  
She’s stiff as an admiral’s dress uniform when he smooths her hair over her shoulder and rests his hands on the curve of her neck. But as his warm fingers ease slowly into the knots cramping her shoulders, the tension starts to slip away. By the time his hands slide over her shoulderblades, her eyes are closing, her head dropping forward. She sighs.  
  
“Nobody does this like you do.”  
  
He presses his thumbs along her spine. She can hear the smile in his voice as he replies, “How many other hapless crewmen have you conned into giving you massages?”  
  
She snorts. “As if I’d let anyone else touch me like this.” Then, “Well, apart from the Doctor. But his massages are purely therapeutic and definitely not enjoyable.”  
  
“Then I’m glad I can help you enjoy yourself, Kathryn,” he murmurs.  
  
“You really are, aren’t you?” she finds herself saying, lifting her head. “Everything you do is designed to make my life easier.”  
  
“It’s in my job description.” His fingers press lower along her spine, warm palms spreading over the base of her back.  
  
“Maybe,” she says softly. “But who looks after you? Who makes your life easier?”  
  
“Well,” he answers, voice light, hands sweeping back up to her shoulders, “I suppose I could ask Tuvok to rub my neck for me.”  
  
She smiles despite herself. “I’m serious, Chakotay. It upsets me to think of you expending all your energy on keeping me comfortable and getting nothing in return.”  
  
“Kathryn –” He places his hands on her shoulders, turning her back to face him. “Where is this coming from?”  
  
It’s harder to say it, facing him, but she forces herself to try. “Since the day you agreed to be my first officer, you’ve done everything you can to keep me happy and healthy. You offer me your frank advice but always support my decisions, even when you disagree with them. You dig your heels in when I want to lead dangerous away missions, but you’re flexible when you can tell I need time off the ship. You take the burden of crew appointments and reports.”  
  
“And as I told you, that’s the job of a first officer.”  
  
She pins him with her stare. “You cook for me just to make sure I eat. You make sure I rest and don’t drink too much coffee. You bring me thoughtful gifts to cheer me up and you’re always there to listen when I need to talk. You rub my _neck_ , Chakotay...”  
  
“All of which falls under my other job description as your friend.”  
  
“Really?” She bites her lip. “In that case, our friendship would seem to be a little one-sided.”  
  
“Not true.” He takes her hands. “Who noticed I was exhausted this morning and gave me the afternoon off? Who brings me books she thinks I’ll enjoy? Who learned to box just so I’d have the chance to spend more time with her and get some exercise as well? Who always gives me the time and space to explore my traditions and spirituality, and is interested when I talk about them?”  
  
“Oh,” she says, surprised.  
  
“If you think I don’t get anything out of our friendship, Kathryn,” he brings their joined hands close to his chest, “you’re wrong. Our friendship means everything to me.”  
  
Those damned tears that never seem far away these days are prickling at the back of her throat again. Kathryn frees one hand and raises it to cup his cheek. “Oh, Chakotay,” she chokes out, and reaches up to kiss him.  
  
She can feel his surprise in the moment of hesitation when her lips touch his. But she deepens the kiss, sucks lightly at his lower lip, licks into his mouth, and he shudders and parts his lips for her, his free hand sliding under her hair.  
  
His hands don’t roam further, although he matches the growing intensity in her kiss. She’s the one, in the end, who lets her fingers drift over his chest, who pushes his T-shirt up to flatten her hand against his skin, who climbs into his lap to press against him as she tangles her tongue with his. And she’s the one who pulls back to gasp, “Bed.”  
  
“Are you sure?” he searches her eyes. She nods, so he gathers her in his arms and gets to his feet.  
  
She presses open-mouthed kisses to his neck as he walks them into his bedroom. He sets her carefully on her feet and bends to kiss her again, hands smoothing over her shoulders, lips following their path. She raises her arms so he can remove her tank top, helps him pull off his T-shirt and steps back into his arms to press as much of her skin to his as she can.  
  
“Kathryn,” he whispers, burying his face in her hair, and she moves her hands to the fastening of his pants, pushing them over his hips with his shorts until he steps out of them. He returns the favour, untying the drawstring of her trousers, and they fall to her feet. She feels the hard ridge of his erection against her belly, the fine trembling in his arms as he pulls her closer, lifting her on tiptoes so he can find her mouth with his own.  
  
She pushes off her own panties and kicks them away, and he walks them backward, lowering her onto the bed. She pulls him down onto her, welcoming his weight, her arms and legs coiled loosely around him. Chakotay dips his head to suck her nipple into his mouth and she whimpers, pushing herself into him. “Please,” she whispers, “I need you inside me.”  
  
He makes a sound, a cross between a growl and a sigh, as she tilts her hips to allow him to slide into her, feeling herself stretch to welcome him in. When he’s buried inside her as far as he can go he holds still, his eyes meeting hers. She reaches one hand up to trace the lines of his face, so familiar to her now. So dear.  
  
“Kathryn,” he says again, and she says, “Yes.”  
  
His fingers entwine with hers, his other arm holding her close as he moves slowly inside her, never breaking eye contact. Emotion swells inside her, making her catch her breath and preventing her from looking away. It’s so intense, so intimate, that for a moment she’s afraid. But there’s something in his eyes – in the way he’s looking at her – and the fear dissolves.  
  
She feels him thrusting harder, rubbing deliciously up inside her, his breath quickening as he nears orgasm. And she realises she doesn’t even care if she comes this time – what matters is that he’s filling her, surrounding her, his hand clasped in hers and his gaze fixed on her face. But her body has other ideas, and so does he.  
  
Chakotay shifts slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts, and she gasps as the now-familiar feeling begins to overtake her. Her limbs quiver, her body begins to shake, the pleasure gathers and wells and spreads out from low in her belly, and as her climax rushes over her like a fire-flood Kathryn cries out: “Chakotay… I love you –”  
  
One of them gasps in surprise just as Chakotay’s orgasm takes hold of him, but she’s not sure whether it’s his gasp or hers. She feels him filling her, the muscles in his shoulders quivering as he holds himself above her, his hand clenching on hers. Then consciousness returns to his eyes and they lock onto hers.  
  
“Kathryn –”  
  
Fear rushes back in and before he can say anything further, she wrenches her hand from his and squirms out from underneath him, knocking him onto his side in her haste. She’s yanking her pants on and tugging her tank top over her head before he’s even made it off the bed.  
  
“Kathryn, please wait!”  
  
“I have to go,” she cuts him off, shoving her feet into her slippers and rushing through the door, ignoring any further attempts to stop her.  
  
=/\=  
  
 _Day 17, 0930 hours, Ready Room_  
  
  
It’s amazing, really, Kathryn ponders as she sips from her fourth cup of coffee that morning, how two people who regularly spend a large portion of their time together – both on and off duty – can manage to completely avoid one another.  
  
Well, she has to amend, not that Chakotay started out trying to avoid her. But after the first thirty-six hours of her leaving rooms just as he enters them, cutting off his comm calls before he can get to subjects not directly ship-related, and dismissing him from her ready room the instant he’s finished giving his reports, he’d got the message. And, without a word, he’d acquiesced, giving her the space she needed.  
  
Just as he always does.  
  
The headache that seems ever-present these days throbs at her temples again, and she wonders idly if it’s caused by excess caffeine, lack of sexual release, or a guilty conscience. Probably all three, she sighs.  
  
She gives up on pretending to read Harry’s operations report and leans back in her chair, eyes closing. Sleep has been difficult to come by of late, as well. _Hardly surprising_ , snarks her annoyingly persistent inner voice. _Considering you confessed to your first officer that you’re in love with him_.  
  
 _And then ran away like a coward_.  
  
She’s honestly not sure which is worse: realising how she feels, actually _telling_ him, or being unable to find the courage to face it head-on.  
  
Her door chimes, and she straightens in her chair, calling “Come,” just as she remembers B’Elanna has asked for an appointment at this time. The young engineer enters, head buried in a PADD, and starts speaking without looking up.  
  
“Captain, I’ve drawn up some plans to convert part of Cargo Bay One to a mineral refinery. If you wouldn’t mind looking them over –” She glances up and stops short. “Are you all right?”  
  
“What?” Kathryn blinks at the lieutenant.  
  
“You look pale,” B’Elanna answers. “And tired, if you don’t mind me saying. Should I call the Doctor?”  
  
“God, no,” Kathryn waves a hand dismissively. “I’m fine, B’Elanna. You were saying?”  
  
“If you’re sure.” B’Elanna hands her the PADD. “We’d have to set up the refinery at the rear wall of the cargo bay so we can tap into the power conduits in Jeffries tube 65-beta. We’ll need to set up forcefields on a rotating frequency during the extraction procedures to avoid contaminating the bay, but we can re-route a few extra relays to do the job.”  
  
“Good,” Kathryn says absently. The words on the PADD blur before her tired eyes. “How will you stabilise the shielding in that area?”  
  
“Uh,” B’Elanna stares at her, “like I said, we’ll use a random frequency rotation – Captain, are you sure you’re okay?”  
  
She rubs her forehead again. “Just a headache. I guess it’s affecting my ability to concentrate.”  
  
“You need to go to Sickbay,” B’Elanna says firmly.  
  
Headache or no, the glare is still fierce enough to quell a half-Klingon. “I’ll look these plans over and get back to you, Lieutenant. Dismissed.”  
  
“Fine,” the engineer mutters as she turns to leave. “God forbid you actually admit you _need_ anything like us regular mortals.”  
  
The door swishes shut behind her, and Kathryn stares at it, open-mouthed.  
  
 _But I’m the captain_ , she rails internally. I _shouldn’t need anything. Or anyone_.  
  
The headache drills nauseatingly into her temples and she has to concede it’s fast turning into a migraine. One that won’t get any better without treatment.  
  
Sighing, she stands, holding onto the desk as her balance sways sickeningly, and steps out onto the bridge. She forces her voice to remain light as she tosses out, “I’ll be in Sickbay. You have the bridge, Commander,” and doesn’t break stride all the way to the turbolift. “Deck Five,” she mutters, slumping against the bulkhead as the doors start to shut.  
  
A strong hand stops them before they can close all the way, and someone steps into the ‘lift with her.  
  
Kathryn steels her spine, forcing her eyes to open and her mouth to form a greeting. Then she realises who’s entered her turbolift.  
  
“Chakotay, what are you –”  
  
“Save it, Kathryn.” He holds up a hand. “I’m escorting you to Sickbay. You look like you’re ready to collapse.”  
  
“I don’t need –” This time, she stops herself. “Thank you,” she says quietly. “I appreciate it.”  
  
He stands silently beside her, giving her as much privacy as he can as she struggles to remain upright and composed. When the ‘lift stops on Deck Five, he places a hand under her elbow and ushers her gently into Sickbay.  
  
“Computer, activate EMH,” Chakotay orders.  
  
“Please state the nature – Captain!” The Doctor’s eyebrows almost reach his non-existent hairline, then he glances, eyes narrowed, at the commander. “Are you here voluntarily? Or should I place you on a biobed in restraints?”  
  
She’d roll her eyes, but her head hurts too much. “It’s just a migraine, Doctor. Commander Chakotay was kind enough to escort me here.”  
  
“Well, it’s no wonder you’re suffering migraines again, what with your grievous inattention to your own physical health –”  
  
“Doctor,” Chakotay intervenes calmly. “Just the treatment, if you would? Now is hardly the time for lectures.”  
  
Kathryn sends him a grateful glance as he helps her sit on the edge of a biobed, and the EMH sniffs and bustles around, preparing a hypospray and gathering a tricorder. “Very well,” he mutters, scanning her. “Far be it from me to lecture you, Captain. But I must insist that you find some way of drastically decreasing your stress levels. Surely there’s some pleasurable activity you could undertake on a regular basis as a way of relaxing and recharging?”  
  
Her face burns as she studiously gazes at her own clasped hands. “I’ll take it under advisement, Doctor. In the meantime –”  
  
“Yes, yes. The hypospray.” He applies it to her neck and she sags in relief as the medication enters her bloodstream, relieving her headache almost instantly. “You’re free to go. And Captain,” he calls after her as she leaps thankfully down from the biobed and strides for the door, “Ensign Swinn has a yoga holoprogram I highly recommend –”  
  
The doors close, cutting him off, to Kathryn’s relief. Chakotay shadows her into the turbolift. This time he faces her, watching her as she calls for the bridge.  
  
“Halt turbolift,” he orders when it becomes clear she’s ignoring him.  
  
“What is it, Commander?” she asks abruptly, still smarting from her encounter with the Doctor.  
  
“I’ve been thinking,” he launches straight in, “about our arrangement. And I have to conclude, based on the past few days, that it’s having an adverse effect on you. It was supposed to relieve your tension but you’re more stressed out than ever. And it’s clearly affecting our ability to work together, not to mention our friendship.” He clasps his hands behind his back. “I told you before that there’s nothing more important to me than that. And I want my friend back.”  
  
“So what are you saying?” It’s hard to force the words out through her suddenly-tight throat, and it’s even harder to meet his gaze.  
  
“I’m saying,” he answers quietly, “that I don’t want you to feel you have to avoid me anymore, Kathryn. I’m saying that I understand what you said the other night was said in the heat of the moment. I know it isn’t what you meant, or how you really feel. And I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable around me because of it. So can we agree to forget it – forget all of it – and go back to being friends?”  
  
“So you’re saying,” she swallows hard, needing to be sure, “that you don’t want to continue our arrangement? You don’t want to have sex with me anymore?”  
  
Something passes through his eyes, but he suppresses it before she can be sure of what she’s seen. “Oh, I want to have sex with you, Kathryn. Believe me, I do. But I’m saying that it seems to be a choice between that, and us being friends. And I choose your friendship.”  
  
“I see,” she says tonelessly.  
  
“So,” he says, clearly trying to smile, “I have the holodeck booked for an hour tomorrow night. How about we try out Ensign Swinn’s yoga program?”  
  
She stares at him, forcing back inexplicable tears. “Sure,” she answers, ordering the corners of her mouth to turn upward. “Sounds great.”  
  
He nods, turns to face forward. “Computer, resume ‘lift,” he says, and they ride to the bridge in silence.  
  
=/\=  
  
 _2200 hours, Captain’s quarters_  
  
  
Too tired even to order soup, Kathryn starts to strip off her uniform as she enters her quarters, leaving the pieces of it strewn across her furniture and not even caring. “Computer, sonic shower,” she orders listlessly, and steps under the sonic waves, closing her eyes.  
  
He’d said that her friendship meant more to him than sex, and that it was a choice between one or the other. She doesn’t know why that hurts. Why she wanted to protest when he said it.  
  
Why it felt wrong.  
  
“Sonic off,” she mumbles. She steps out, wanders into her bedroom and opens her bureau, pulling out a pair of soft flannelette pyjamas she knows Chakotay would tease her about if he saw them.  
  
She sits before the mirror, brushing out her hair.  
  
He’d said he didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable around him because she blurted out something she didn’t mean, in the heat of the moment.  
  
 _He let me off the hook_ , she realises, the brush slowing its strokes.  
  
She’s always suspected how he felt about her. She’s known since that first night in the holodeck that he loves her. And yet he’s pushed that aside, dealt with whatever conflicted emotions he must have had about their arrangement, just so that he could give her what she needs.  
  
What she thought she needed.  
  
And as soon as her own feelings grew conflicted – as soon as she began to feel uncomfortable – he’d stepped back. Because he thought that was what she needed from him.  
  
Whatever he truly believes – that she told him she loved him because she was caught up on the verge of orgasm, or because it’s the truth – doesn’t matter. She didn’t want to face it. So he let her off the hook.  
  
Kathryn lets the brush drop out of her hand.  
  
Staring at her reflection, she forces herself, now, to face the truth. He’s been giving all of himself in every way that he can, for so long she’s come to take it for granted. She pushes him; he gives way. She pulls him; he follows. She falls; he’s her soft place to land.  
  
She takes and takes, and he gives her his all. Because he loves her.  
  
And against all her best efforts, against all her personal rules and heart-guarding parameters, she loves him back.  
  
Kathryn picks up her commbadge and presses it with shaking fingers. “Janeway to Chakotay.”  
  
~Chakotay here.~ He sounds calm, professional with a hint of affability. Ready to give her whatever response, whatever version of himself she requires.  
  
“Could you come to my quarters, Chakotay?” She can’t stop her voice from breaking a little.  
  
~Of course,~ he answers instantly. ~I’m on my way.~  
  
She’s still sitting at her vanity table, commbage resting in her palm, when the door chimes. She allows the entry and he steps into her darkened quarters, stopping midway into the living room.  
  
“Captain?”  
  
“In here,” she says quietly.  
  
Cautiously, he enters her bedroom. She swivels on her stool, facing him.  
  
Chakotay takes her in: bare face, loosened hair, faded pyjamas. “Kathryn?” he asks tentatively.  
  
She looks down at her hands, twisted in her lap.  
  
“I tried to ignore it, you know,” she says, as though continuing a conversation they’ve never had. “I’ve been setting limits and parameters for myself – for us – since so early in this journey I can’t even remember when I realised I’d have to. And sometimes I got confident, or careless, and I’d relax them a bit at a time. Or a whole lot of them in a rush,” she concedes, and looks up at him.  
  
He’s standing several steps inside the bedroom doorway, listening intently, and she can see the tension in his shoulders. She rises, moving toward him.  
  
“Somewhere along the line,” she continues, “it became less about remaining separate for the sake of the ship and crew, and more about protecting myself. It wasn’t until New Earth that I started to realise protecting myself might be less rewarding than opening up to you. And I was on the verge of it, Chakotay.” She stops directly in front of him, eyes fixed on his. “Did you know that? Did you know I was _this close_ to falling in love with you there? Or,” she confesses, watching him swallow, “admitting that I already was.”  
  
His lips part, and she reaches up to rest her fingertips on them.  
  
“Let me finish,” she pleads. “This isn’t easy to say.”  
  
Chakotay nods, a smile starting under her fingers.  
  
“I think I’ve loved you without consciously realising it for a long time. Longer than I’d like to admit, probably, especially considering I have – had – a fiancé back home. And I don’t just love your body, or what you can do to mine, in spite of how things appeared the other night. I love _you_ , Chakotay. I love your loyalty and your kindness and your intelligence and your stupid sense of humour. I love the way you look out for B’Elanna and how you encourage Harry and the way you give Tom enough latitude to be himself. I love the way you care about every member of this crew, the way you know all their hobbies and peculiarities and the people they’ve left at home. I love the way you even try to get along with Tuvok for my sake.”  
  
The smile is at full width now, and she gives into her impulse to press her thumbs lightly into the indents of his dimples and cradle his face in her hands.  
  
“I could list all the things I love about you, especially the things you do for me, but we’d probably be here all night,” she says, smiling back at him. “And to be honest, I have other plans for tonight. That is, if you’re amenable.”  
  
“Do those things include letting me tell you I love you, too?”  
  
“I was hoping you’d mention that,” she almost giggles in relief. “You do, don’t you?”  
  
“If you had any idea –” Instead of finishing, he dips his head to capture her mouth with his own.  
  
When they finally break apart, gasping for breath, she’s almost light-headed with need.  
  
“Let me show you,” he whispers, leaning his forehead against hers.  
  
“No,” she shakes her head. “You’ve been showing me all along. It’s my turn to show _you_.”  
  
Kathryn guides him toward the bed, tugging his clothes off with purpose until she can admire him in all his delicious, golden nakedness.  
  
“Lie down,” she orders, and he complies. She strips off her pyjamas and climbs on top, straddling his hips.  
  
“You’ve been in control this whole time,” she murmurs as she leans down to kiss him sweetly, drawing his hands up above his head as she presses her body against him. She circles her hips purposefully, feeling him groan at the sensation of her wet flesh grinding against his erection, and she takes the opportunity his distraction affords her to lean down and rummage in her nightstand.  
  
“Now,” she straightens up, “just lie back and enjoy.”  
  
The delighted, anticipatory grin that splits his beloved face as she clicks on the handcuffs is almost as thrilling as the knowledge that this, being with him, is, always has been, _exactly_ what she needs.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> crimsonsupernova made this [moodboard](http://supernovacoffee.tumblr.com/post/172873772576/fanfic-moodboard-lacedbound-by-mia-cooper) to accompany Laced and Bound and I LOVE IT.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Busted](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13584324) by [Helen8462](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helen8462/pseuds/Helen8462)




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